


The Pursuit of Happiness

by Pantherlily



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Gore, Implied Incest, Implied under aged, Not for the faint of heart, Past Drug Use Mentioned, Please just don't read it if you have triggers, Probably more I missed later on and I'll add them as needed, Referenced but not graphically depicted, These are all the triggers I can think of off the top of my head, This fic has many triggering themes, Torture, Violence, multiple character deaths, non/dub con, slavelock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2018-11-15 01:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 150,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11220177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pantherlily/pseuds/Pantherlily
Summary: A tale  of: rape, murder, torture, revenge, deceit, and betrayal.Also a tale of: adventure, friendship, loyalty, redemption, family and love.Eventual Johnlock.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED EASILY AND PLEASE HEED THE TRIGGER WARNINGS IN THE TAGS BEFORE PROCEEDING. This story deals with some very dark themes, often in a descriptive way. Consider yourself warned.

John stood before the double doors of his newest home, head down. He was cleaned up but still dirty, his hair disheveled and bruises littering his body. He sported a black eye and a split lip, though he couldn’t bring himself to feel too bad about it. He had gotten what he wanted from the fights, a new home with a new Master who could not be worse than Master Victor Trevor, who had taken him to bed and encouraged him to fight until John grew too violent and Trevor took to using his whips on him. Now John waited for the door to be opened. The messenger beside him held a note to be given to the man who would own him from this day until he was next sold.

_My dear Sherlock,_

_I give you this man for your enjoyment. I have been calling him Roger, though you are allowed to change his name. The deeds for him are wrapped up inside this letter, and you may do what you wish with him. He is a bad influence on my own household, and I believe that you run yours very well and might like to give him a try. Roger is quite good in bed, if you like a fight, though he also has some medical training and ability to really fight if you want to use him in the rings. But, as I said, do what you wish with him._

_Enjoy,_

_V. Trevor_

Sherlock had a slave answer the door, as if he would actually take the time to open the doors to his manor when he had people do it for him. He was informed he had be presented a gift. A new slave. He sighed and left his experiment to go take a look. He snatched the note and read it over quickly before fixing his gaze on the slave in front of him. "All right Boy, in you come." He waved a dismissive hand at the slave who had answered the door for him and they bowed deeply before retreating back to whatever duties they were supposed to performing. "You look like hell. Am I going to have trouble with you like Master Victor did?"

John felt the urge to growl at the man, but he knew better than to do that in a new home. Not to mention his hands were tied, so if this man got violent and knocked him over he would be unable to stop his fall without further injury. He waited a moment before speaking, carefully thinking about his words. "Possibly, Sir, if your delight is raping those under your command as well." When he spoke his voice and face were flat. There was no reason to sugar coat what Victor had done, even though it was legal because John was nothing more than manual labor. "Also, possibly if you get violent with me. They've been unable to break me of retaliation so far." There was a hint of pride in his voice at that. He had always been a fighter, had been planning on enlisting before his family went to shit and sold him.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I am well aware of Victor's predilections with those he employs under him. Just like him renaming his slaves. Your name, what is it Boy? Unless you enjoy being called 'Roger' or whatever name I stick you with. At the moment, it will most likely be 'Boy'. I am only violent if you don't do your job. I whip my slaves if they fail to be anything other than obedient. Twenty lashes, tied to a pole outside and then left there all day and no one is allowed to approach you until I decide to untie you. I've never had a slave who needed that punishment more than once. Your hands will remained tied. I have a pretty full staff, besides being a fuck toy and fighting do you have any other duties you perform well? The note said something about medicine. I've no use for that at the time."

John kept his eyes below the man's chin. "My name, officially, is John. However you may rename me as to whatever it is you wish, _Master_." He emphasized the last word, letting it come out of his lips like a poison. He hoped that this man would grow tired of him and sell him soon enough. "Besides those, I suppose I look good as a coat hanger or a decorative piece for a room." He let fall from his lips, already knowing that he would be the one that would grow to be punished more than once. He had never been good at following the orders of his Masters. Years as a free man did that to some people. "I was training as a medic and a surgeon before I was sold. I know some chemistry, and am quite literate and I can even write." John gazed around from his peripherals, taking in the room they were in. Hallway, quite empty of any sort of decoration save for stern looking men. Ancestors of some sort, most likely.

"You've got quite the mouth on you John. We will have to fix that. I don't allow my slaves to be disrespectful to me. You will be punished now. I doubt you will but don't bother apologizing or begging. It won't work on me." Sherlock reached to grabbed the tied hands and pull on them, to make his new slave follow after him and outside. He had been quite serious about how he punished slaves. It hadn't been meant as a scare tactic, although sometimes it worked as such and he hadn't needed to punish some of his slaves at all.

John followed his new master out silently. It wouldn't be the first time he had been whipped, and as he had already thought it would be very unlikely if it was the last. He looked around as the man dragged him out, taking in again the large plot of land the mansion sat on. He could see the whipping post, and was already mentally preparing himself for the pain. He could handle this. Twenty lashes, easy. It wasn't a cock being shoved into his arse with almost no preparation, save for a finger. It wasn't salt in an open wound, or a riding crop on a still bleeding wound either. He could handle this.

Sherlock tied John to the post, making sure the knot was secure and so his back would be to him. He then took out a small knife and cut off all the clothes the slave wore, leaving him naked to the elements. He picked up his favorite whip, it was a cat o' nine tails. It had multiple whip tips, not just one. He brought the whip back and down as heavily and hard as he could manage across the bare back. He repeated the process until the total came to twenty. He was sweating by the time he was done. "You will stay tied there until I decide otherwise." He went back inside the manor. He didn't bother warning his slaves not to touch John, they knew better than to disobey him.

John grit his teeth against the pain, reminding himself of everything worse that had happened to him before. This was nothing, it had to be. It hurt though, very much, and he wanted to cry out and be saved. No savior was coming, though. Not for him. When his Master was done, John was slumped against the post, panting. He could feel some of the blood dribbling down his back and to his legs. By the time he was back indoors no doubt he would have a marvelous sunburn to show off as well. John closed his eyes, questioning why he couldn't just be quiet before reminding himself that it wasn't how he had raised himself. He stood in the sun despite his tiring legs. He would not give up now.

Sherlock decided to let John stay tied to the post for almost three days, until he came out to untie him. He left the lead on the wrists, so he could pull John around by the tied hands. “Next time I simply let you starve to death after I beat you but with fifty lashes. Or maybe animals will slowly eat you alive as they scavenge for food. You see, I spent no money on you. Therefore, I lose nothing if I let you die. If Victor or I can't tame you, then there is no point in trying to sell you to someone else. So, you can either stay with me, learn to mind your tongue and work or die. Those are your choices, do you understand? This is your one and only chance. I do not give second chances here.”

John didn't respond. He wasn't planning on it. Second chances be damned, he was not going to stay here. Clearly this man was crazier than Victor, and the last three days John was hungry and now fairly dehydrated as well. He stumbled as they walked back to the mansion, making a landscape in his mind. He would need a good layout of the fields, and only his eyes could give him a good enough one. As they walked in, his sunburnt shoulders and back aching in the cooler air, John knew he would somehow best his Master. Best him, or run away. Whatever he chose to do, it would happen or he would die trying. John kept his gaze down, feigning respect for the man. He would get some respect, and refused to be broken easily.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the silence. “I don't like silence Boy. It means you are thinking. If you are thinking then you are planning on running. I can tie you back up to the post if that is the case and let you finish dying out there. I'm not going to waste my time on someone like you. If you want to die, then fine I really don't care. It would save us both a lot of trouble.” He gave a yank on the lead and began going back outside. “I've changed my mind. Beg Boy, if you want to live. Tell me how much of a good boy you'll be for me. Promise you will behave. If you maintain your silence, then you'll likely die in a day, three at the most I imagine.” He tied John back to the whipping post, and then arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at his slave.

John git his teeth and looked away. He would starve out here. Die of dehydration before he could ever return to his father and give him what he deserved. He couldn't let that happen. Dammit, he'd have to beg. John ground his teeth together and put his chin up, though he was shaking and couldn't see completely straight. His body was exhausted and aching. "Let me live," he said quietly, "please." He attempted to lick his lips, but his mouth was dry and there was not much to be found. "I don't want to die, I have things to do... I need to do them... I don't want to die, not yet!" His voice shook and his legs almost quit supporting him. "I may not be good but I've never been good, and I won't be until I kill the bastard who sired me and raised me to be like this!" He was trying to growl but he couldn't. John dropped his head. "Please don't kill me. Not yet."

Sherlock cocked his head with vague interest, a smirk on his lips. He might be able to use this. “I'm sorry I didn't quite hear you. Beg louder. Tell me what a gracious Master I am that I am considering letting something as disrespectful and useless as you live. As far as I can tell, I have no use for you. You have no skills I require that I don't have already and merely an extra mouth to feed when my money could be better spent on something else. Tell me, this vengeance you seek. Is it something you want to do by your own hands or would their death by any means be enough for you?”

John squeezed his eyes shut. "Please," he said in a regular voice, and then louder, " _please_ let me live. You're... you're a wonderful master. Truly... above the rest for letting someone as _worthless_ as I live. I want to kill him with my own hands. I need... I need to see his face when mine will be the last thing he sees, like he did to me. I need to see the look in his eyes when I come back. I told him I would kill him. He raped his own daughter, and blamed me for it, and sold me off! Please, let me live so I can give him what he deserves! I can...I can guard you or your house or join you to guard you when you go out. I can do... anything you tell me to." He tried to scream but his throat was too dry. He croaked it out instead, ignoring the taste of blood on his lips as they cracked from lack of liquid.

Sherlock smirked as he listened to the begging. “Fine. If I allow you this vengeance. You can't be stupid about it. If you get caught, you are of no use to me in jail. Assuming they don't have you hanged to begin with for being a slave and killing a free person. Swear your fealty to me. Right here, right now. I will let you live then. You are in no shape to try and do anything right now. You will be tended to but I won't require you to work until you have what you seek. But after that, you are mine. I own you. All of you. I am willing to give you what you want, don't forget that. If I think for a moment you won't hold up your end of this little bargain, I will kill you before get what you want.”

"Anything. I swear it. Once he is dead... anything." John licked his bloody lips, taking in the liquid. "I won't be caught. They'll never know I was even there..." He tried to be as convincing as he could. This was his first and only chance to pay his father back for destroying his family the way he had. "Please, Master." John let his head fall forward, against the post. He had nothing else to give except his will and his body. His Master owned one and was working on the other. And John would accept it. As soon as his father was dead. John would give it all up.

Sherlock smirked and nodded. “Good. Come, let us get you cleaned up then.” He didn't trust John just yet, so he kept the hands bound as he led them back into the manor. “My other slaves will treat your back and feed you. Don't eat or drink too quickly, you will only get sick. And in your state, you won't be able fight an illness well. You won't get your vengeance and I won't get you. We can't have that, now can we?” He handed over the leads to slave. “See that he is taken care of. No work for him until I say so. Chain him to a wall in the basement.” He turned to face John. “I don't trust you as of yet, so you will stay chained to a wall until the time comes for you to go do what you need to.”

John wasn't stupid and it wasn't the first time he'd been starved. He nodded slowly, trying not to make himself woozy. He was lightheaded as it was, and he only smiled a little when his Master said he would be chained to a wall. "I knew you were smart," he rasped. "I will not run, but it is wise not to trust me. You are by far the smartest Master I have had." He was trying his best to be respectful but he was severely out of practice. He allowed the other slave to take him to where he would be changed, not looking back at his Master. He behaved for the slaves to tend his back and body, lying on the small cot he was allowed face down and making no noise when they poked and prodded and cleaned him up, focusing only on how he would kill his father.

Sherlock snorted but smirked a little as he watched John being led away. He didn't pay much attention to the slave after that. He didn't see the point really. He was a busy man anyway. A few days later, he allowed the slaves to give John clothes to wear finally. The fifth day, he finally came to visit his slave. “My slaves tell me you have been behaving for them. That is good. I will unchain you from the wall and let you walk around for a bit. The door is locked and I'm not the one with the key. So, there is no point in trying to overpower me so you can run. Can't have your muscles getting weak without use. Tell me, your father's house. Where is it?”

John did behave himself. He didn't fight and didn't argue except to give the slaves tending him a few tips. He only put on the trousers given to him, and left the shirt on the bed. His back ached too much for him to want to wear a shirt. When his Master came down, John looked at him calmly. He was still skinny and underweight, pale and bruised, but he was getting better. When his wrists were released he rubbed them and stood, keeping hold of the wall to catch his balance and then began walking around. He chuckled when his Master said there was no point to overpower him in an attempt to run. "It would not be an attempt to run, Master." John let his eyes trace his Master's features. He had only been with women (willingly at least) before, but his Master was attractive. "My father lives far away from here. If I had a map I could show you."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows the smirk returning to his lips. “Is that so? What an interesting thing to say.” He studied John awhile. “I will bring a map next time I visit then. Is there anything you would like to pass the time? You said you were literate. A book or two maybe? It will be some time before you will be well enough to allow me to let you leave still.” Some of his slaves had gotten restless and he heard the gossip from time to time. They were jealous of John and this seemingly special treatment given to such a new slave. It didn't really matter to him though, since none of them had a death wish and knew his commands would be followed. Having disgruntled slaves though, could prove troublesome. Maybe a day off for half and then another day for the other half would stop their mumblings. He really didn't want to have to deal with a revolt on his hands. “You are proving to be bit more troublesome than I anticipated. Not you personally, but the other slaves don't like you much. I might have to kill you anyway, just to keep the peace.”

John shrugged but didn't wince when his cuts were pulled. The slaves inspecting him had been thorough, and John had long ago given up any idea of private space. He was healed enough to be put in somebody's bed again, and was curious if his Master would desire him to do such a thing. John would have no choice but to obey. He met the man's gaze with his own fierce one. "I would hate to die because of unruly others. Is your rule over them not as absolute as you thought?" He asked plainly. "I would also hate for you to treat me any differently than your other slaves, apart from getting me well enough to kill me father. Once he is dead I will be the same as them." John told him mildly, with just a trace of anger in his words. He couldn't help but challenge his Master a bit. It was what he did. He had heard a few of the slaves grumbling about him being treated far too nicely for such marks on his back but he held his tongue to them. They would report back to the Master, and he decided in the end what to do with them. The thought of death made John turn his gaze to Sherlock's neck. "If I were to die attempting to kill him, what would you do with my body? Or become severely injured. I'm certain if I fail I can run, but if I don't survive would you be leaving my body or taking it back here?"

“Still with that tongue of yours. Maybe I should just cut it out. A slave can live and work without one.” Sherlock gave a shrug. “I have already thought of a way to appease them anyway. It shouldn't come to your death. You will be my most prized slave, as I will own you in a way I have never owned a slave before.” The smirk came back. “Does it matter? Last requests of slaves aren’t really something I care about. If you fail, I will have no use for you then. Your survival is dependent on you being successful and getting out clean. I will not accept any other outcome. I will simply leave you behind for whoever to do whatever with you.”

"If you were to cut out my tongue, my mouth would not be very good for pleasuring you if you ever decide to use me in that way." John shrugged again. He had begun to do that a lot. He thought of how much Victor had disliked the shrugging and almost smiled. He raised his eyebrows. "In what way? Completely and without laws?" He asked, wondering how many others would dare speak to their Master in this way. "I suppose the only last request I would have is that you find a way to kill my father. Slaves are one thing, but the same actions toward a child..." John clenched his fists, already imagining them around his father's neck. "The gravedigger will probably toss me into the forest to feed the creatures, then."

“That is very presumptuous of you. I have plenty of other slaves who could suck me off if I wanted them to. So, I suggest you watch how you speak to me because next time I will bring a knife on my next visit should you decide to continue to be disrespectful. I think I have been more than fair with you since your beating, the least you could do is show some common courtesy Boy.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes a bit at John as he continued speaking. “If you get caught that isn't my problem and I will leave you to hang out to dry. I won't come to your aide at all. If you get hurt beyond use for me then I will leave you to die there. I have no use for an invalid. If you fail, you fail. I will do nothing for you after your dead.”

John was quiet for a moment, looking at his Master, and then he nodded. "You're right. Absolutely right. I am very sorry." He was being mostly honest. "Not many Masters have given me any sort of...relief such as this. I am unused to it and defensive is my...reaction. I will do better not to offend you Master, as I do rather like my tongue." He was actually almost pleased that, should he die, his Master would not keep his corpse. He had heard of some Masters doing it and it was quite disgusting to John. "Please forgive my slip up, and I will do my best to please you however you see fit in the future." John bowed his head slightly, thinking that this really would be his best chance to kill his father and then not have to worry too much about the future. Kill his father and return, then do whatever Master wished. He would just have to train himself away from offensive language. That might be difficult, but he did like his tongue.

That had come as surprise but the reply pleased Sherlock. “Good, I'm glad we got that settled. I will not chain you to the wall when I decide to leave. I am not an unreasonable Master, John. I do reward good behavior. Fear only gets one so far, a mistake I think slave owners make far too often. Punishment is harsh and swift here but if you do well, you will be treated well enough. Shelter, food, clothing, and even days off if I find you have done something exceptional. Other things as well, private quarters instead of sleeping with other slaves, chances to go out and run errands, perhaps even allowed to own a thing or two for your private room, should you ever have the privilege of having one. I will be back in few days and I'll make sure to bring that map. I am done with you for the day. Try not to over exert yourself walking around. It will only hinder the healing process.”

"I have helped doctors and medics. I know that the healing process is a delicate one." John blinked. "I'll...do my best to keep my back clean and clear." He knew that the punishment here was harsh and swift, perhaps a bit too swift, but it worked. John had no doubt that if he were to misbehave Master would leave him to die. He looked up in surprise at the mention of their own rooms. "Everybody has their own room?" He had never heard of such a thing. One or two favored slaves getting their own rooms, maybe, but not every single slave... Surely, he must have misheard or misinterpreted. "Thank you for...almost everything, Master. I'm not fond of punishment so I cannot thank you for the whipping and being left out for the days, though it was my own fault, but everything else...thank you." John nodded at his Master, waiting for him to leave before moving again.

“What? No. Don't be ridiculous. Of course, not everyone has their own room. Only those whom I think deserve it. There is a limited number of rooms and sometimes quite vicious and competitive just to get one. People will rat out others for the slightest infraction in hopes of getting in my good graces. It can be amusing at times but mostly it is just annoying. Although it does keep the slaves divided and they don't band together, which is why I do it really. But right now, they have a common enemy, you. But as I've said, I will take care of that shortly. They probably still won't like you but I will avoid a mutiny.” Sherlock shrugged. “I would not expect you to thank me for beating you. If you did, I would worry for your sanity.” A small smirk. “Get well soon John.” He ordered the slave on guard duty to unlock the door and stepped out of the room when it opened.

That made more sense, then. John couldn't imagine every slave getting their own room that would take a lot of money and a lot of actual care for the humanity of slaves. John knew there were many who were more like dogs than humans, sleeping in piles and biting each other when it suited them. And he knew there were some slaves that liked to be beat. One previous Mistress, Irene Adler, had only kept those who would misbehave on purpose. She would beat them and use their bodies however she saw fit, and if one happened to drop dead during an experiment, nobody cared. John nodded to his new Master, glad to be out of the grasps of the others, and watched him walk out. As soon as he was out the door, John was on the bed. His back hurt from standing and looking up for so long, and it was only then that he realized he had held eye contact with the man for most of their conversation, yet he had not minded. John lay back down on the bed, resting his back, and waited for his Master to return.

Sherlock didn't return back to the basement for another five days. He had been busy trying to smooth out the unrest of the slaves and his plan on letting them have a day off hadn't worked but two had. It had taken a total of four days though, as he hadn't let them all have the day off at the same time. Usually he wouldn't bother compromising but a bunch of slave’s rebelling against one Master could be problematic. He should probably invest in hiring hands to help but he was just a little too stubborn for that. He brought the map with him as he entered his newest slave’s temporary quarters. He had enjoyed the conversation with John last time. It was nice to talk to someone educated, most slaves were not. Or at least not the ones he owned. “How goes your recovery? Will you be ready soon?” The sooner he could get the slave out and working like the others, the better. He had only bought himself a little more time really.

John's wounds had scabbed over very well, but they would not be completely healed for a while. Two or three weeks, most likely. Still he could leave now, and if he reopened his wounds he would simply heal later. "In all honesty, Master, a week or two more would be best but I can leave in the next few days." John looked up from where he was, carefully stretching on the bed. He wanted to remain at least a little limber, and stretching his scabs helped him with that. "You have some interesting slaves here, you know. They are friendly to your face, but should you turn your back they become quite vicious." John still didn't smile. In all honesty, he hadn't truly smiled since before he had been sold by his father. His eye caught the map in his Master's hand, and he nodded to it. "I can use that to show you where my father lives, yes?" He stood up and waited by the edge of his bed for his Master to lay the map out so he could show him where he'd be.

“Yes, I am aware of how my slaves are. Almost none of them like me, of that I can assure you. Most barely like each other from what I can tell. There are some alliances here and there.” He gave a slight shrug, since he didn't really care either way as long as they did as they were told when he told them to. “I don’t expect slaves to like their Master. It isn't my job to be friends with them anyway. I make sure they work so my manor makes money. That is all. Nothing more, nothing less.” Sherlock moved to the bed and laid out the map, kneeling in front of it. “Right then, show me where it is at and I will help you make a plan. I would prefer you succeed after all, otherwise all this time and effort to keep you alive and help heal would be waste of my time.”

John was thinking that maybe, if he could continue their relationship something like this, he could grow to like his Master. He looked at the map, and figured out where they were, then whistled lowly. He slid his finger from where his Master's manor was, and then all the way up to a large estate ten towns over. It was a three or four day ride away. "He lives there. He's got a large number or slaves and has a minor placement in the government. Because of that he can get away with just about everything, including raping his daughter and selling his apparently disgraced son into slavery." John growled, his fingers tightening in his fist. "He's very lazy, and spends most of his days in his room where he gets female slaves to pleasure him. I was thinking of maybe a poison, or when he goes to sleep at night stabbing him or strangling him...but I do want him to be awake, and I want my face to be the last thing he sees."

Sherlock followed John's fingers on the map and he contemplated in silence for a while, barely listening as his slave spoke about ways to kill his father. “We will go to the town alone. With your lack of popularity lately, I don't trust anyone else to go with us and definitely don't trust anyone else to take you. I suppose I could always call in a favor to my older brother.” He scowled at that but didn't elaborate. Someone needed to be in charge if he was going to be away for almost a week, possibly longer. He didn't usually take long trips away from the manor. “I recommend stabbing him, if you must. If you strangle him they could match your hands to the prints that would likely be found on the neck. Poison would be the best way to go undetected and get away clean, should you be able to repress some of that anger of yours and the need for your father to know it is you.”

John listened to his Master speak with a nod, not asking about his obvious dislike of his brother. It was not his place to ask, not right now at least. Perhaps later. "I shall have to see if I can suppress the desire for him to know it was me. It depends on how my sister is doing. When I left, they thought she might be pregnant...she wanted to kill herself. If she has had a child or has killed herself, I don't think I'll be able to keep from allowing him to see me before he dies." John stretched out his shoulder to arch his back and pop a couple joints. It felt good to do so, and John leaned back from the map. "Would it be horrible of me to ask you to trust me to return on my own? I have already sworn you my life, and I am not the type of man to go back on a swear."

Sherlock shrugged with indifference while John spoke about his father and sister. He honestly didn't care either way. He raised his eyebrows at the question. “You have no reason to uphold your end of the bargain once it is complete. You will come back with me. And while I'd like to think I could trust your word anyway, too many things could go wrong. A slave trying to get back that distance, would be dangerous alone. I am taking enough risk allowing you to do this, I will not take any more than necessary. When your father is dead, you will come find me at a pre-planned meeting spot and we will leave that place behind and never return. We will find a suitable spot to meet at a later date, when I can get a lay of the land with my own eyes.”

"Where will I go once I have completed my task? Away from the mansion, towards the city? I cannot hide out there forever, and I would eventually be found." John continued for just a moment before giving it up. His Master didn't care about his family, but it was all John had thought of since he was sold. Getting back and getting revenge, it was all he could focus on. He'd once been a very good scholar, able to hold many different thoughts at one time, but now almost every bit of his brain was intent on killing. "Alright, Master. I understand." He nodded, thinking of his childhood home. "A couple miles down from my father's house is a stone quarry. It is large enough for a small army to hide in, if you wished to meet there. I could show you when we go."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, he thought for sure John was going to try and argue with him. He relaxed though, when his slave finally submitted. “That would be good, yes.” He thought for a moment. “Is it an obvious place to hide? Will it be searched first?” He would need to make travel preparations, which would take a day or two to do. “The next time I come down for you, we will leave.” He rolled up the map but didn't get up to leave. Honestly, this was the first time he'd a moment of relief from the other slaves and going back upstairs wasn't appealing at all. He found John's company acceptable for the most part and certainly far more bearable than any of the other slaves.

"Possibly it will be searched, but it is large enough for people to hide in without ever being found so most people don't want to." John didn't sit, trying to think of places large enough to hide two grown men. "There are a few hall-like structures that can be hidden in, and a few that must be climbed to but are better to hide in. I can show you when we get there." John nodded, letting his Master take the map away. He would be able to get in and get out quickly, should he time it correctly. When his Master didn't stand to leave, John looked at him curiously. "Did you need anything else, Sir?" He asked curiously, keeping one part of his mind on the layout of his old home and the other part in the present and looking at his Master, if a bit cautiously.

Sherlock nodded absently as John explained the quarry. He would have to look at it to know for sure. He blinked at the question and then out a sigh. “This is my first moment of peace in a few days,” he admitted. “Just trying to enjoy it while it lasts.” He rubbed a hand over his face, the stress of the last week or so catching up to him finally. He cleared his throat and stood abruptly. He couldn't have a slave seeing him like this. Looking pathetic and weak. It gave slaves ideas. Like he could be walked all over and badmouthed. He couldn't let that happen. He had a reputation to keep around this place. God, did he dread going back upstairs though. Sometimes being a slave owner was not as simple as some might think.

"Oh." John stated simply, looking after him. He stared at his Master's head for a minute before coughing and then speaking. "The last ten days have been the first moments of peace I've had in years." He coughed again, and sat on his bed. "It's...alright, you know. I don't speak to any to your other slaves, and they don't say anything really except to insult me." John looked at the door. "It's always open. Not like I really have a choice, but you'll probably have less trouble keeping my mouth shut than anybody else's. I swore my life to you. I'll do anything you tell me to, including keeping my mouth shut about any peace you desire from inside of...here." John spoke a bit quietly, not certain if it was alright to say or not, and hoping that if it wasn't then that his Master had not brought his knife.

Sherlock stared down at John thoughtfully, considering the words said to him carefully. “You are different than any other slave I've ever had,” he mused out loud. He reached down and ran a hand through his slave's hair, but it wasn't in a patronizing fashion. It seemed to be genuine expression of affection. “You are to bathe before we leave.” He then turned and left the room, after speaking to the guard outside. He shook his head at himself as he went back upstairs. He locked himself in his room for most of the time, until he had travel plans set up and gotten in touch with Mycroft. It was another three days before he went back downstairs. “John, it is time.”

John was silent while his Master spoke, flinching a moment when he reached down to touch his hair. The gentle action was completely at odds with everything John had learned of him so far, as a harsh and unforgiving man for the most part. Nobody got second chances, and yet he was speaking with John and allowing him revenge for nothing but his word that he would remain loyal. When the door was once again shut and locked, John couldn't help but speak. "And you are different than any Master I have ever had." He bathed on the second day, accidentally reopening a number of his scabs. Although his back ached, he didn't itch at them. When his Master came down the third day, he was working on spreading a balm over the scabs once more. John looked over his shoulder and nodded, finishing up and putting a light, loose shirt on. "Let's go then." He went to the door and waited to be led.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock nodded and led them upstairs. He stopped to speak with his brother briefly and even managed to thank Mycroft before going out the front door. There was a horse drawn carriage waiting for them, already packed with clothes for both of them and other supplies that would be needed on the road. “You will be in charge of steering the carriage John. The map will be under the seat should you need it. If we take our time, your back will be bit more healed. When it is close to nightfall, we will stop at an inn. I am not camping out under some damned stars. If we reach a town before sunset and unable to get to the next one, we will stop there.” He climbed into the carriage, expecting John to obey him without incident and waited for the journey to start.

John was surprised to see the carriage, and a bit more surprised that his Master trusted him not to drive them off the side of the road. He shrugged it off. "Yes, Sir." He sprung up into the driver's seat, where the reins were. He chuckled to himself at the thought of his Master camping out under the stars. He didn't seem to fit the image at all. He snapped the reins and the horses pulled. They headed out the gates habitually, and then John pulled their leads in the right direction. He wished they would be on individual horses, as that would make the journey a bit faster, but he would not complain. Well, actually…his Master was in the carriage. John spoke under his breath, complaints about having to drive a carriage and how much more work it was for the horses and how bulky it was until it was noon. Then he began to hum, quietly, to pass the time. He even spoke to the horses about the journey and the Masters he'd had, asking them (though he knew he'd get no reply) how long they had been with his Master and what they thought of him.

Traveling was always so dreadfully boring. He couldn't do any work; the ride was too bumpy to concentrate or write letters or anything of that sort. He lifted the small cloth on the door, so he could look outside as the scenery went by. Sherlock sighed and let the cloth fall back into place. Getting away from the manor for a while was nice though. Things should go back to normal too, once he got back. With or without John, though he figured the slaves would be most pleased if John didn't make it back at all. He tried not to let himself get lost in his thoughts too much. Hopefully the ride wouldn't feel like it was taking forever and they would stop soon. After a while, he began getting a bit cramped so he stretched out on the cushy bench he was sitting on.

John kept a keen eye out for any unsavory folk that could be in the country. They passed a number of horseman going the opposite direction, a couple passed them going the same direction, but it was mostly quiet. He rather liked it. There were a couple men that John did not like the look of, eyeing their carriage and belongings, but they didn't meet his eye. The horses didn't spook from anything, and by the time night fell on the first day they had gone through a town and were halfway to the next. "Master, there's an inn ahead but it doesn't look very welcoming. Would you rather I keep the horses going to the next town or do you want to stop here?" He questioned, not liking the image of the carriages and people loitering around the inn. He began to pull the horses up, slowing them to a walk from their fast trot before stopping them completely to get a better look around the town.

Sherlock sat in the carriage a moment, in quiet contemplation. He frowned a bit at what John said and eventually he got out and moved to sit next to his slave. His sharp gaze swept over the people in the town, eyes narrowing a bit. “Did anyone pass us that would fit with these people here? And if so, do you see them in the crowd now?” His mind was thinking nonstop at the moment, as he came up with several different outcomes depending on what they did. He just needed to know the last two variables from John before he made any final decisions though. He hadn't come completely unprepared for bandits and the like, but he preferred to avoid them if they could.

"Yeah." John stared out at the people they were steadily approaching. "A couple of 'em that passed us. I don't see them, but they could be inside." He was a bit startled when his Master had hopped up next to him, though he didn't show it too much. "What are you thinking of doing, Master?" He turned his head to look at the other man. He would rather continue on past the inn, but then they would have a higher chance of being attacked or having to camp out under the stars which his Master had already declared he did not do.

“Mmmm,” Sherlock muttered, his fingers coming to rest under his chin as he continued to look around them. “We'll get attacked no matter what we do,” he finally mused. “If we stop and stay, they can take the horses and carriage. Which take away our ability to leave later, assuming they didn't kill us in our sleep. We should keep going, there is probably an ambush out there somewhere but there will be less to deal with on the open road than in this disgusting town. Give me the reigns and get in the back.” Hopefully his plan work. It was a bit of gamble but it seemed to be the best option they had at the moment.

John handed the reins over a bit reluctantly. He didn't know how well his Master could drive the horses, but he obeyed with just a slight hesitation. He stood up and held onto the seat, then looked back down at the other man. "How far back? Inside of the carriage or back with the luggage?" He questioned, thinking that if they had been attacked in the night he'd kill anybody who tried to get to his Master. The man was his ticket to his father, and John would do his best to prevent any harm from coming to him while they traveled. "Do you have a knife or something I can use back there for when they get us?" He climbed into the back carefully.

“Just in the back where I was sitting is fine. Yes. Under the seat. I have one as well, already. I thought we might run into this sort of ilk, so I planned accordingly. I recommend you hold on tight John.” Sherlock started the horses again, moving the carriage along. They would be tired and what he was about to do was reckless and would certainly mean he would need to have them reshoed in the next town. If they made it that far. He had memorized the map and he drove the horses as hard as they could. They might make it to the next town in an hour if he didn't allow them to slow down. Once they were clear of the town he struck the reigns down on the horses to send them into all out sprint. They were well trained horses, bred at his manor. He had handpicked himself before leaving for a reason.

John didn't respond, holding on as the horses began to move faster. He looked behind them for just a moment and saw a couple other men getting on their horses, walking and then trotting after them. John slid into the open seat, grasping underneath for the knife. He wished that he had a gun or something else he could use, knives got everything so messy, but would take what he could get. He felt the carriage jerk and gripped the seat tightly. He certainly hoped his Master knew what he was doing. The carriage occasionally lurched to either side, causing John to hold his breath and throw himself to the other side to balance it out. He thought he heard a couple hollers and hoof beats but he was not entirely certain, and he wasn't about to risk his balance to see.

This was the most fun Sherlock had had in a while. It got his adrenaline going and his heart racing. He had a smile on his face as the carriage tipped and tottered back and forth, as he ran the horses hard. Of course, the men on horseback would be able to catch up, it would be impossible to out run them. “I hope you are holding onto something John, your Master is about to do something incredibly stupid,” he yelled back to his slave. He jerked on the reigns which startled the horses but they jolted to a stop. The carriage shook behind him and heard a one of the axles give. Damn it. Well, they could fix after they were done with these idiots. As he predicted, the men on horseback were not prepared for the sudden stop and he leapt at one of them, knife drawn and knocked them both to the ground with a slight thud. The horse kept running, panicked without its owner to guide it.

John would have called back that his Master was an idiot, of course he was doing something stupid, if they had stopped to make camp before reaching the inn or taken single horses they would have been _fine_. But no, his Master had a knife and had already threatened to ruin his mouth. John rather liked his tongue where it was. When he drove the horses next, he could call his Master all sorts of horrible names when he couldn't hear. The carriage jerked and rattled and tipped when the axle broke, throwing the not-yet-prepared John to one side. He hadn't been able to get a good grip because there wasn't one. He almost lost his breath, and he stood up a bit shaky to see his Master on one man and looking okay. There were five others, and John saw them all watching his Master. One passed close to him, circling his horse, and John dragged him off, finishing him quickly with a stab to his chest and pulling himself onto the horse. His back ached with the movement but he ignored it and dug his heels into the beast to charge another man, knocking he and his mount down, and John released his own mount to tackle him, digging his elbow into the man's stomach viciously.

Sherlock supposed any sane person would not be enjoying this at all and would likely be terrified. Really, he just enjoyed dangerous situations and he frankly didn't get much of that living a boring life in the manor. He had the upper hand by surprise alone and he was able to stab the man in the chest with relative ease. He couldn't get the knife out, however, so he took the liberty of taking the gun in the holster. He shot one man off a horse but was tackled from behind from someone else. He grunted from the impact of hitting the ground, and did not have a person to cushion his fall this time. His head hit the dirt, causing a cut and the blood dripped into his vision. He was left a bit stunned as well, and it took him a moment to gather his wits after the blow.

John was quick about cutting the man's throat and once he did he looked around. Out of the eight men there had been, now there were only four. One of them had tackled his Master and was working on getting his hands to either his neck or his gun and…he went for the gun. John tackled the man before he could pull the trigger, punching him in the face and then the throat because he'd lost his knife as he flew over the ground to get to his Master. He pulled back to his Master, breathing a bit heavily. "Four left, Master, which ones do you want?" He winced as he heard laughter.

"Master? You're a fuckin' slave?" One of them called out, circling them. Three on horses, one on foot, and all with guns. "Boy, we could have some fun with you…why don't you leave your pretty man and come with us? We'll take everything but your life."

John clenched his fists. Hell no. He wouldn't. Looking down at his Master he saw the gun just a couple inches away from the dark man's hand, if he reached and they didn't pay attention... "You gonna shoot em?" He asked quietly, not moving away while he waited for his Master to rise again.

Everything was happening quite quickly, or at least it seemed to be. Sherlock was having a hard time focusing, perhaps he had hit his head a little too hard. Anger washed over him and he let out a snarl when he heard the men taunting John. “The boy is _mine_ , you will not touch him!” He wasn't big on sharing. Especially not his slaves. He stood, a bit unsteadily, but didn’t let that stop him from tackling the man on foot, turning them so he would fall on his back and effectively using him as a human shield as another man shot at them. He took the now dead man's gun and shot the man's horse, causing the animal to screech in agony and fall, dismounting the man. He shoved the corpse off him and had to dive for cover as he was shot at some more. His adrenaline rush was dying and God his head hurt. Two...three left? He wasn't sure, hopefully John was doing something useful.

John's way of being useful was taking advantage of the slight lull in action thanks to Sherlock and run for one of the men, startling his horse and ducking under to drag him off. He narrowly dodged the hooves by his face, pulling him off and throwing him below the horse as it came back down. The last man was waiting for John, who had grabbed the dead man's gun and was cocking it only to be picked up. Although he had gained weight over the last week and a half, he was still underweight and was picked up easily. He squirmed, trying to elbow the man, but was completely off and only elbowed the horse who seemed numb to the commotion going on around it. "Master!" John called, flailing but he was really sore now. "For God's sake, shoot him or me or _something_!" The man was laughing.

"He's a good one isn't he? Calling for you to help him? He's cute too. You won't mind if I take him for a…test ride do you?" The man asked, and John threw a hand back when he felt one grope his rear.

"I swear to God I will chop off your prick if you touch me with it." John growled, trying to get his balance to slide off. He was gripped tight and unable to, though.

Sherlock still had the gun gripped in his hand. Christ, would John stop yelling? He had a horrid headache right now. Damn it. Still one left apparently. The words finally registered. He moved from cover, motivated only by rage and hatred. He squinted through the blood in his visage, and brought the gun up. He couldn't shoot the man holding John in a clean shot, so he shot the horse in the chest instead. It whinnied and fell. When they fell he moved as quickly as he could with his head bleeding still. Standing over the man, he pulled the trigger and shot him in the head point blank. He collapsed after that and fell unconscious.

John would never admit it but as the horse fell he screamed like a little girl who saw a spider. In his defense, a horse is a big animal and the thing did almost completely flip over. He barely managed not to get his legs crushed and he heard the shot behind him. After he regained his breath, John was a bit confused as to why his Master was not yelling at him and berating him for being stupid. He turned around and saw him lying on the ground. John ran over, sliding on his knees to reach him, and turned him over. Still alive. He didn't waste time turning his head up to thank god, busy dragging him over to the carriage and also trying to decide to stay or leave. As he patched his Master up, he entertained the idea for a brief second of leaving. But he would probably be searched for. Deciding it was against his better judgement, John patched up the cuts and scrapes on his Master and then did his own. There was a first aid bag that he used packed in with the luggage, and John was done quickly. He put his Master inside on the seats, taking the horses off of the carriage and tying them to a nearby tree. With that done, John moved the bodies off into the forest, took their weapons, and then went back to the carriage. He filled all the guns and waited for his Master to wake, not wanting to look at the axle.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock woke slowly with a groan. His head still really hurt but the bleeding seemed to have stopped. He sighed and looked around his surroundings with confusion. Hadn't he passed out outside? How had he gotten inside the carriage? He assumed John to be long gone by now. He would have run if it'd been the other way around. He sat up, ignoring the dizziness and nausea he felt and stumbled outside. The fallen men seemed to be gone or at least out of sight. The horses weren't attached to the carriage anymore. John probably had them now. Except he heard the horses making noise nearby and was surprised to find them both tied to a tree. He was even more surprised when he finally spotted his slave. “John...I didn't think you would stick around,” he admitted and slumped against the carriage for support.

John didn't hear his Master's groan or he would have walked in to see him. He turned around when he heard his name though and blinked. "Yeah, I didn't think so either." He shrugged and looked back at the guns, five of them loaded completely and the other three partially. "But I figured that staying with you is still my best bet so…here I am. Not to mention I swore to you." He stood up and then moved over to his Master. "You ought to still be laying down. You've been out for almost half an hour…that can be dangerous. You need to stay calm and relax. I'll try to do something about the axle later but you need rest." He offered his arm to his Master to support him. "I thought about going to hunt or something but I figured it would be better to do so later."

Sherlock smiled a little. “Can't believe my ridiculous plan worked but it was the only one that had the highest survival rate so...” He shrugged and then waved a dismissive hand at being told he should rest. “I'm fine. We have work to do. There should be some supplies to reshape the axle and an actual extra wheel under the carriage, since that one is likely broken or badly damaged it isn't safe to travel on anyway.” He squinted but it was hard to see the wheel that had fallen clearly. “We need to get off this road as soon as possible. More of those...people...might come. Back with the luggage should be a bulls eye lantern and tinder to light it. It will allow us to see to fix this mess. Though I recommend going slow and having it properly fixed in the next town, we basically just need a temporary fix to get us just far enough.”

"I hate to see what happens when one of them has a low survival rating." John sighed, wanting to push his Master back into the carriage. But that would be a very, very bad idea, because that was not something a slave should do. "We have five guns with six bullets, that's thirty people if we're careful, and the other three have three bullets. Thirty-nine all in all." John walked to the back of the carriage, carefully moving things around and looking for the lantern. It was getting pretty dark out and difficult to see, but he found the items quickly enough. He brought them back and lit the lantern, setting it on the ground by the hind end of the carriage. "Well, you certainly don't do things halfway, do you? We're going to need something stiff to tie the axle back up to, and we'll need it actually replaced it seems. You've managed to snap it almost in half."

“I may have been a bit hard on the horses to get them to stop. Wouldn't be surprised if one of them threw a shoe or two.” Sherlock ended up slumping down to a sitting position against the carriage because he couldn't stand any longer. He sighed, not wanting to be like this. He hated looking weak in front of others, especially his slaves. “Maybe there is stiff log around nearby. Just something to support it long enough to get us where we need to go. There should be some rope with the supplies to tie it in place.” He struggled to his feet, determined to be of some help even though he wasn't sure what he could be doing. Most of the work needed was strenuous and even though he hated to admit it, he wouldn't be able to do anything like that. He wasn't good with his hands much anyway. Mostly just his mind and planning and contingencies for things that may go wrong.

John couldn't stop the snort that escaped from his nose, and the roll of his eyes that came after. "You think? Bucky's left front is loose, and Tiller's lost his left hind." John pointed to where the two horses were nibbling on some grass. "If we had a…clipper or something I could get them off myself, but I don't think that you brought one with you." He didn't even bother to think that his Master was showing him weakness right now. It was a human thing, and although John would normally use any weakness against his Masters he was actually a bit fond of this one. "Alright then. You check for the rope and I'll go look for a log." John paused and chuckled, the grimace on his face tilting up into something that was still not yet a smile. "Do you think a corpse would, do it?" He covered his mouth as he snickered. That was very black humor, but he couldn't help it. "And if we need anything else, we have three of the eight horses from the blokes that tried to kill us, although there is a fourth that you shot. He's still alive and it might be kind of fun to try and keep him that way…" John trailed off, turning and heading for the forest to find a log.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at John. “No, I didn't bring any.” He smirked at the humor, despite it being dark. “If it weren't for the smell, I honestly wouldn't care. Speaking of corpses, see if they have anything useful besides the weapons. If you haven't already that is.” He didn't really care about the horses so didn't bother commenting on them. He made it to the back of the carriage, using the side of it for support as he walked. He checked around, mostly by feel until he found the rope. He moved back over to the broken wheel and slumped back down to the ground while he waited for John to return. He was tired and his head hurt but he couldn't sleep just yet. Maybe when they finally got underway again, he could nap in the carriage while they got to the next town.

It took John a while to find a suitable log. He put his foot through three that he'd thought might work before finding a good one. He dragged it back, sweating heavily, and threw it on the ground in front of the carriage till he caught his breath. Then he crawled under the carriage, dragging the log with him, and took the rope from his Master. It was a bit difficult for him to stretch it out, but after a few tries he managed it. Once he was satisfied that it would not break for another couple hours, John crawled back out. "Alright, that should hold us until we get to town." He grabbed the four remaining horses and tied them to the back of the carriage. They would just be walking, easy enough to keep them close. John checked the broken wheel before grabbing the extra. He left the broken one by the side of the road, leaning it against a tree, and replaced it quickly. "Alright Sir, ready to go back in?" John checked the packs and found some canteens filled with water. There were four and he handed three to the taller man and kept one for himself.

Sherlock merely stayed leaned against the carriage, while he waited for his slave to return and then watched John work on the carriage. It gave him something to focus on. A suitable enough distraction and not half bad to look at either, despite the limited light from the bulls eye lantern. Besides thinking made his head hurt even more right now. “God yes,” he replied to the question. He took a moment to stand and get steady on his feet, before he took the offered water. “Thank you.” A pause. “You have pleased me today John. I will not forget what happened here.” He gave his slave a weak pat on the shoulder before he stumbled his way back inside the carriage. He drank some water before he stretched out on the cushioned seat. It didn't take him long to pass out, finding bliss in the slumber where his head wasn't hurting anymore and he didn't have to worry about anything.

John only nodded to him, making sure that he didn't fall and break his head open when he got in the carriage. He gave everything a once-over before he left, checking the bullet wounded horse and being pleased to find that it was mostly superficial. Though the bullet had taken a chunk of flesh out, John put his shirt on the wound and tied it with another rope on the saddle and then got the other two horses hooked back up. It took him about half an hour, and when he was ready to go he checked once more on his Master before tugging himself onto the top of the carriage with the lantern tiredly. He clucked to the two before him, made sure the four behind were following, and then let the horses lead the way for the most part. They kept to the road at an easy walk, not straining themselves but not meandering. In two and a half hours they had arrived in the town, and John looked around with bleary eyes for a suitable inn, preferably with a real doctor.

Sherlock only managed to sleep for about half the trip. It was a little bumpy and it kept him from sleeping soundly. He sat up slowly with a sigh and drank some more water. Dimmed lanterns outside alerted him they had finally reached the town. He wasn't sure how much time had gone by but he was certain they had lost a day maybe two because of the incident. Oh well. As long as John could wait just a couple more days, he wasn't in that much of a hurry anyway. He would just need to have a letter sent to Mycroft and let his brother know the trip was going to take longer than anticipated. “John, just stop someplace. At this point, as long as the place has a bed I don't care.” He made sure to speak loud enough so his slave could hear him over the sound of the moving carriage and the horses.

John only knocked twice on the top of the carriage to acknowledge he'd heard. Soon enough he caught sign of a nice-looking inn, with plenty of room for the horses and apparently a couple vacancies. He pulled up, listening to the wheel and axle crack, and was glad that they had made it so far. He dismounted the carriage, holding the lantern, and opened the door for his Master. "Do you want me to take care of the horses and just let me know when you have a room, or do you want me to come with you?" Although there was nobody else, he didn't want to push his Master when he was obviously injured and quite possibly cranky. The lantern was now a low light, but there was a brighter one just inside the inn.

Sherlock felt the jostle of the axle break but luckily, they had already come to a stop. At least something had gone right for them this trip. He got out of the carriage. “No, I will pay for someone to tend to the horses. Probably just sell those others, I don't need them. I have plenty at the manor that are trained the way I like. You will come in with me. I was planning on having one room for us, and when I am better I will allow you to have your own while we travel. Right now, I would like you to share a room with me until I am a bit steadier on my feet.” It was his roundabout way of asking for help while he was a bit incapacitated. “You have medical knowledge, so put it to good use once we get settled. Oh, do bring in the luggage though.” He moved into the inn and glanced around for the keeper. He paid for the best room the place had available and then extra to have someone take care of the horses and carriage. He took the key and then waited for John to come in before making his way up the stairs to their room.

He was surprised that he'd be sharing a room with the other, but slid the surprise off his face. He actually was interested in keeping the horse that had been shot, but apparently his Master wasn't. Stifling a sigh, John allowed the workers from the inn to come out and take the horses. His Master was inside but he had his own small purse he had smuggled from the men who had tried to kill them, and he gave the workers a couple of coins to actually bandage the horse that had been shot. He watched them walk off and then grabbed the bags, walking into the inn. His shirt was gone, and his back still healing, but John paid no attention to the men and women still awake, only following his Master. He heard whispers but ignored them, keeping a respectful distance from the man who owned him until they got into their room. He turned to lock the door and then approached the taller man. "Let me look at your head now." He was already reaching up because the dried blood was nasty and he needed to see under the curls.

Sherlock did not pay attention the whispers. He didn't care what anyone thought. People did little else than gossip anyway. He sat down on the only bed in the room. It was comfortable enough, he supposed. Nothing like the one in his room at the manor though. He couldn't help but smirk at the demand. “I will let that slide John. Just look at it and take care of it, but do watch how you speak to me. I don't like slaves being rude to me, even if I am growing fond of them.” Grant it, he had never been fond of any slave before but apparently there was a first time for everything. He sighed and tried to stay still for John so the wound on his head could be inspected thoroughly.

John grimaced at his Master. "If I weren't worried about the damage done I wouldn't be so rude. But it's been hours since this happened and I probably shouldn't have let you sleep but I couldn't exactly keep you awake either. People die from less than this, you realize, and if you were to die while on a trip with me…I wouldn't get very far." A small amount of red covered his face when his Master spoke of being fond of him. He grabbed one of the canteens of water and gently worked the man's head back, pouring some water on it to soften the dried blood and wipe it away. "Long cut but not deep. It'll just need to be bandaged for a couple days to keep anything nasty out of it, and then you should be good." He gently prodded and poked at it. It bled sluggishly, but he wasn't too concerned. "I recommend a bath, I can bandage your head, and then rest."

Sherlock would have raised his eyebrows but that would have aggravated his already throbbing head. “Worried for me because you are a doctor taking care of a patient or because you actually care about my well-being? Or perhaps simply just looking out for you so I don't die on you.” He smirked when he noticed the cheeks on John flush a bit. Well, that was interesting. “Then bandage me up. I can bathe tomorrow. I am very tired and don't have the energy for it quite frankly.” He was much too proud to ask his slave to help him with a bath. “You will have to sleep on the floor I'm afraid, unless you are comfortable sharing a bed with me.” He gave a slight shrug. It didn't really matter to him but he wasn't sure John would want that since Victor was the slave’s previous Master.

"The first two, though mostly the first thing you said." John took a step back and ignoring the smirk on the man's face. "A man's got to have his priorities." John moved towards the bag. He knelt down to get the bandage as he had ordered, and then went back over worrying his lip slightly. He had done this a number of times before, but only rush jobs on other slaves. He was careful wrapping around the dark curls, using only what was needed. "I'll take the floor." The words came out quickly once he was given the option. He was no longer a fan of sharing beds. It had been fun in the beginning, a way to fuel his anger and project it at his Masters in the 'fight' they longed for, but soon it became worthless and not fun because he had gotten serious injuries from it. "I should be fine on the floor. Your head is good, do you need anything else before you sleep?" John turned away to look in his bag for another shirt to put on, keeping one eye on his Master carefully.

Sherlock frowned at how business-like John had become, but he decided not to say anything further on it. Apparently, his slave had mistaken his offer to share a bed. He merely shook his head at the question and only stripped out of his shirt, letting it fall carelessly to the floor. He laid down, turning his back to John. He pouted for a while, not sure why he was doing so in the first place really. He sighed and rolled on his back to stare at the ceiling but despite how exhausted he was, he couldn't sleep. Maybe when John was asleep he would slip out of the room and go for a walk. Not the smartest thing to do in his condition but he didn't like just laying around and doing nothing either. Perhaps a long bath was in order for the night after all. He didn't even bother to see if his slave was awake or not, but he did make sure not to step on John when he went to the door and to the public wash room the inn had for the guests. He locked the door and started the water. It wasn't warm but he didn't care. He got in, and despite the temperature he just sat and soaked in the tub.

John picked up the discarded shirt with murmurs of annoyance under his breath. "I work for an overgrown, four-year-old, sadist." The words were muttered under his breath, to make sure his Master would not hear. He folded the shirt and watched as the taller man turned his back on him. After a few more minutes of tidying, John retired to a spot by the door where, if anybody happened to try and break in they would trip over him. His skin was sticking together a bit thanks to broken and bloodied scabs, but being able to stretch out and relax on the floor was nice. He dozed, unable to fully fall into sleep, and heard his Master step out the door. He began counting in his head, wondering when the other would return and giving him an hour and a half before John went looking for him.

Sherlock wasn't sure how long he soaked. Long enough for someone to knock on the door seeking entrance as well. He sighed and got out of the water, shivering. The night air was chilly and the water had been cold. He undid the plug and he dried fairly quickly. His hair was the only thing still wet, his unruly curls always took the longest to dry. He bent and picked up his clothes, figuring there was no point in putting them back on since they were dirty and he was now clean. He wrapped the towel around his waist, not out of any real sense of modesty but he didn't want to have to worry about people screaming about indecency at him and possibly pay a fine of some sort. He went back to the room but had forgotten John was right by the door and he tripped over his slave on the way in. He cursed but managed not to fall on his face. The towel had come off though. Shivering, he merely sought comfort and warmth from the covers.

John had almost decided to get up and go after him when his Master came back. Clearly, he did not remember that he was by the door because he tripped over him and nearly fell. The towel did, leaving a nude man walking to the bed and shaking. That could get annoying. After a few minutes of listening to his Master shiver, John sighed and turned over. "Do you need extra warmth Master?" He sat up just in case, grabbing the towel so he could fold it, and then decided against that because it was still wet. He stood up and carefully moved over to the door to hang the towel on the hook there. "I can add a blanket or two or I can provide with some warmth myself."

For whatever reason Sherlock still had the clothes he had picked up in his hands. Without turning to face John, he threw the clothes lazily in his slave's general direction in reply with a barely audible mumbled, “I'm fine,” as well. He was still pouting. He was angry at himself more than anything. He shouldn't have started liking John. That was such a stupid mistake. Masters and slaves weren't supposed to like each other. Weren't supposed to be friends. At least, that was what his father had taught him before he had taken over the manor. He grumbled bitterly at himself. He would never admit it but he was lonely, but it was the life he had now. Not much he could do about it anyway. When this arrangement was over, he would just make sure he didn't have interaction with John once at the manor. That would make things better.

John frowned at his Master, wondering what had gotten him annoyed. He picked up the clothes thrown at him and bundled them up, moving quietly. "Does your head feel alright?" He put the bundled clothes with their luggage, moving back to his position on the floor. He was turned to face the door but listened. He wasn't sure if his Master was awake or not, but he was tired. "If you need anything, let me know Sir." John flattened himself out and onto his stomach. His back ached but he didn't do anything about it yet. Probably wouldn't until morning. Even so, he groaned quietly as the blood on his own back cracked from where it had dried and stuck. 'Take a bath tomorrow if you can, Johnny boy.' He thought, closing his eyes and sighing, dozing off and keeping an ear on his Master.

Sherlock ignored John and didn't sleep well that night at all. He was shivering, miserable and brooding. When light filtered through the window, he wrapped a sheet around him tightly and got out of bed. “Boy, wake up! We have things we need to get done today!” Just go back to being detached and uncaring. It wasn't an advantage anyway. He let the sheet drop when he was close enough to the luggage and began dressing. “While I eat breakfast, you will find someone to fix the carriage and a blacksmith for the horses. When you are done with your chores, you will be allowed to eat but only then.” He was still cold but at least he wasn't shivering anymore. He sneezed and then grumbled afterward. Damn it. He better not be getting sick. Honestly, this trip had been a disaster the whole time. It wouldn't surprise him.


	4. Chapter 4

John was up as soon as he heard the first tenor of his Master's voice. He nodded, wincing and then letting it slide off his face. Clearly his Master had realized the error of his ways and had decided John was nothing special, nothing that he ought to favor. "Yes Sir." John spoke lowly, waiting until his Master had moved away to begin to dress himself. He said nothing about the sneeze, figuring his Master would not want to hear his voice unless it was relevant. He almost stopped to ask his Master about a bath as he took off his shirt but then shut his mouth. "Is there anything besides fixing the carriage and shoeing the horses?" He turned towards his Master and kept his head low. He had not had anything to eat since lunch the previous day, but he could surely stand a couple more hours.

Sherlock wanted to yell and scream at John that everything was his fault. He was so angry, but it was just mostly at himself. He wasn't even sure he would be able to eat anything without making himself sick, that's how anxious he was making himself at the moment. “Not yet, there will be later and I will give you instructions then. Now, shut up and go do as your Master order. Least I change my mind and we go back to the manor where I let you die slowly.” He brushed past John, out the door and down the stairs. He ordered a simple breakfast from the inn keeper, just some eggs and ham with a cup of tea. He sighed as he sat down at a table while he waited to be served.

John grit his teeth against the barrage of insults that threatened to escape his lips. He should have left the man in the forest. He should have cleaned his head, bandaged him up, taken the horses and left. Should have left him with the two horses he owned so he couldn't be charged with robbery. John couldn't dwell on the past, and the fact that he had sworn loyalty to the man no matter what. He walked out of the room, fists clenched, and down to the stables. When he got there, he cornered one of the grooms, growling. "Blacksmith. I need horses shoed and a carriage repaired." He snarled, and the groom quickly gave him directions. "Sell the three uninjured horses, and use the money to get the other one healed." He left the stables then, not looking back at the inn. He approached the blacksmith, looking around for the man to talk to, but he wasn't in. He decided to wait. John knew that if he returned without all his chores done, Sherlock would have some part of his anatomy.

Sherlock picked at his food, when it arrived but at least finished his cup of tea. Where the hell was that slave of his? It shouldn't take that long to get all the affairs in order, as he'd directed. Or was he still just in an irritable mood? A bit of both maybe. He sat at the table a little while longer before he stood on his feet unsteadily. He was still feeling weak and he used the table for support a bit. Was it because of his head or that he was still cold? He shivered and wrapped his coat around him a little tighter. He decided to just go back up to the room and he passed out on the bed, without realizing his face had a sheen of sweat on his face from a fever.

John returned an hour later after haggling with the blacksmith after the man finally had returned. John had been able to get in some threatening and a little bit of bodily harm as well, which meant that he and his Master would get a good repair and shoes for a cheap price. He checked in on the injured horse and the two he was now calling Bucky and Tiller. They were all fine, and John gave the groom he had growled at earlier a coin he probably shouldn't have spared and then sighed before walking back into the inn. He got a look from the owner but walked past him, despite his rumbling stomach. He'd better report to his Master or risk something. A finger or a toe. He walked into the room, expecting growls and threats but heard only sniffling and snoring. Which, really, did not seem good. John hesitantly approached his Master and saw the sweat on his face and the color in it. He swore under his breath and ran from the room, to the owner to demand a bowl with water, warm water for a bath, water for his Master to drink, and some rags. He paid for the extra items with three coins from the purse he'd taken from the men, watching them go regretfully. He still had half a bag of coins left, but he already missed the weight of the others. When he got what he needed he went back upstairs and quickly lit and stoked a fire. He'd have to sweat his Master's fever out. Soaking a rag, he wrung out most of the water and then put it on his master's head, biting his lip when he felt how warm his face was.

Sherlock thrashed a little in his sleep, with moans and groans. He was completely unaware of John's presence in the room and that he was being tended to. Eventually he started awake and he turned to vomit the little breakfast he had eaten onto the floor by the bed. He muttered something incoherent and rolled back on his back to stare at the ceiling. His slave in the room finally registered and he blinked a few times so he could focus on the other man. “Why do you keep staying,” he muttered. He was trying to sound angry but it was just a harsh whisper instead. He didn't have the energy for anything else at the moment. He reached out to weakly grab his slave by the wrist. The fever was making him a bit delusional. His gaze was still on John but clearly not in the present. “Mycroft, don't leave me. Please...” He had been bitter about his older brother leaving the manor since they had been a bit close growing up. Now, they were practically estranged from each other.

John had been eyeing the tub in the room connected to theirs when his Master woke. He heard the groan and swung around, sweating thanks to the fire, and trotted over to look at him. He almost smiled at the question, his lips twitching. "Maybe I'm a masochist." He let the man hold his wrist. He couldn't do any damage, not with how weak he was, and John let him keep his grip while he put another rag on the floor to cover the vomit and then resoak the one on his head. "I'm not leaving. I promised you I wouldn't." John attempted to reassure him. He dripped some water on his face, and then grabbed one of the cups. "I'm going to lift you up so you can drink, alright?" He questioned for a moment, stepping to the bed and then hoisting the man up carefully to slide under him. He grabbed the cup and held it to his Master's lips. It would be easiest to get him to drink and change his rag this way. "Drink this cup and then I'll stick you in a warm bath. It'll help cool you down, and then you can come back here and go back to sleep. You need to sleep to get better." He waited for the man to drink. He would certainly lose a finger for this. Maybe two. There was no way his Master would let him live easily after seeing him this weak. John started, though his hands didn't move. "I don't know your name," he murmured, unsure if he was coherent enough to understand, "all I can call you is Master..."

“Don't leave,” he muttered again before his gaze finally seemed to refocus back into reality. Sherlock couldn't do a lot so he didn't bother fighting John at all. He drank the water when it was held to his lips and managed a small thank you afterward. “Sherlock,” he murmured in reply. He hadn't really realized he'd never told John his name but it wasn't something he cared much about anyway. Right now, he wasn't very lucid though and any filter he had when not sick with fever was gone. He allowed his slave to take him to the bath but shivered when he got in, despite the water being warm. “Cold,” he complained like a child, along with his lower lip puckering out in a pout. He lacked any strength to do anything about it though, other than complain some more and twist around in the water weakly.

"Sherlock." John repeated, keeping his voice low. If his Master knew that he knew his name…there could be consequences. He took him stumbling to the bath, trying to get him in as gracefully as possible. It was difficult but they managed. John poured some water over his curls and frowned. "No, it’s actually quite warm. You have a fever because I'm willing to bet you didn't dry off last night and caught sickness. You'll only be in here for a few minutes. Then you can go back out to bed."

Sherlock let out a whine and finally stilled in the tub. “Hurry up.” He was still pouting and he glared up at John reproachfully. It seemed to take a long time to him, but eventually his slave helped him back to the bed. He fell asleep and ended up staying asleep until the next day. When he came back to, his fever was gone but he still felt like shit. He didn't really have much recollection about yesterday, just vague memories. John had taken care of him, again, that much he knew but everything else was a little fuzzy. Hopefully he hadn't said or done anything too stupid while he had been sick. He was extremely hungry, that much he did know right now. “John?” He called out with a small cough, and forced himself to sit up so his back was against the headboard, so he could look around the room for his slave.

Halfway through Sherlock's sleep, John had gone to his knees from exhaustion and hunger. There had been a maid in their room, helping him air it out some and stoke the fire, when it happened. She had brought him a snack to eat but it only lasted him a couple hours before he pitched forward to join his Master in unconsciousness. The same maid was now in the room, stoking the fire once again, and she looked at the man with a timid smile.

"You're awake! I'm sure that your boy will be delighted to hear it." She said boy as though John was more of Sherlock's consort than his slave. She had assumed and John was too busy to correct her. "He's so devoted to you. Didn’t rest at all until his body forced him to." She spoke cheerfully, walking out the door.

About ten minutes later John came in. He looked pale and a bit tired but his expression turned relieved when he saw Sherlock awake. "Welcome back to the land of open eyes." He walked slowly over to the bed.

Sherlock blinked a little at the woman but finally nodded just about the time she got around to leaving. He glanced up at the door when it opened again. “We will stay here for two, maybe three days more. An unfortunate setback but I'd rather us both be at full health to continue the journey.” He stared at his slave thoughtfully. “The woman in here cleaning said you are very devoted to me.” He managed a faint smirk at that. “I need to have a letter sent to Mycroft but first I need to eat. You look as if you could use food as well. My coin purse should be in here somewhere.” He couldn't really remember where he had placed it last. “Take it and get us both something to eat. I'll eat up here. Not sure I have what it takes to navigate the stairs yet. Maybe tomorrow.” He seemed at ease with his slave again. “If you'd like, you may purchase yourself a room to stay in separate. I should be fine on my own at night.”

John nodded along to Sherlock's words. His face turned red again when Sherlock spoke of his 'devotion' but he didn't remark upon it. "Any type of food you'd prefer, Master? Or anything I can find?" He moved a couple steps closer and leaned over to feel the other man's head. His fever had only just been breaking when he had passed out, and John wanted to be sure that it really was gone. Although his Master was still a bit feverish, he was far closer to normal than he had been. "Do you think you can navigate a bath? We ought to clean your sheets and change your clothes." He spoke as a doctor, but his face was soft. He had been concerned about his Master's health, with how far he had been out of it, and was happy to see him relaxed. He was almost looking forward to the next threats of bodily harm. John removed his hand from his Master's face though he remained at the bedside for a moment. "I'd rather not risk you keeling over during the night. I believe I will remain with you so long as I can rest assured you won't harm any part of my anatomy while I sleep."

“Whatever the inn has, I'm not particularly picky about food.” Sherlock gave a slight shrug. He still felt weak and tired but a lot better than when he had first come to the inn. He barely remembered checking into it, let alone anything else that may have happened. Just bits and pieces. “Maybe after I have eaten. Don't want to lay in bed all day, walking around will do some good...I think... So, we will try to the bath and back. You can change the sheets while I bathe.” His brows furrowed a bit in confusion at, as he tried his best to remember everything. Had he been moody before? Probably. He got like that sometimes. He sighed. “I see no reason to do anything to you, as you have been looking after me for I don't know how long now. Since I fell unconscious from the fight, I suppose.”

John nodded to Sherlock, stepping away from the bed. "The horses should be reshoed and the carriage fixed now. I made a bargain with the blacksmith. You were a bit...tetchy." John looked for the coin purse and then headed for the door. "It would be best if you did it after you've eaten. That way you'll have built up some strength." John nodded in agreement and then went out the door. He came back in about fifteen minutes later with some meat and ale. "They're almost out of water." He stood by Sherlock, making sure he ate, and then ate his own portion as he walked back and forth, filling the tub and making sure his Master was still awake. The water was only about halfway to the top but it would be enough. "The tub is ready for when you are."

Sherlock smirked a bit at how John described him for the last...how many days had it been? He didn't even know. “Yes, I get like that from time to time. It is best to avoid me but apparently you persevered through my ire and tended to me anyway.” When the food was brought, he ate eagerly. Though he tried not to eat too fast, knowing that wouldn't end too well. He made a face at the ale and only took a sip or two from it just to help wash it down. It wasn't even good ale. He preferred a fine wine or perfectly aged scotch as far as liquors went, but he figured an inn like this wouldn't even have what he would like in stock so didn't even bother having John investigate. When he finished eating, he set the tray on the floor gently and stood with a slight groan. He wasn't near as shaky as before and made his way to the tub on his own, not wanting to rely on his slave any more than he had to. He got into the water carefully after disrobing and began to wash himself.

John didn't waste any time ogling his trim master. He'd had his fill of staring at his body the night before, trying to keep his head above the water and cool him down some. He was quiet as he worked, listening in case his Master needed him. He took the bedding down and put it in the water for the maids to get, and then got some clean sheets. He changed them quickly and then sat down to settle their luggage. Sherlock's dirty clothes would need to be washed but that could wait. John had lost a shirt somewhere, though he had enough extras thanks to Sherlock. Once he was assured that everything was still neat and clean he looked in on his Master again. "I'm going to check on the horses. I haven't seen them since before I found out you were sick yesterday."

Sherlock cocked his head a little, as he became aware of John staring at him. He smirked a little but made no comment for the moment. Instead he just bathed in silence and then let himself sit and soak for a bit. “That is fine. Thank you for all your hard work here lately.” He pulled the plug to the tub and then got out just as carefully as he had climbed in. He clearly didn't care about modesty and he walked over to find a fresh pair of clothes to wear. He then took out some paper, ink and a quill. He sat down on the floor and thought for a moment before he began writing a letter to his brother. When it was finished and the ink was dry, he rolled it up and tied it together with a royal purple ribbon. He would have John take it to a delivery service once his slave returned from inspecting the horses. He put the letter on the small nightstand by the bed. He stayed on the floor, not wanting to lay in the bed yet. He was a bit tired but not exhausted. He reached into his luggage and searched around for something to occupy his mind. A deck of cards. He rolled his eyes. From Mycroft no doubt, because he wouldn't pack such a useless item. Couldn't his brother given him a book to read instead? Prat probably did it on purpose. He sighed and open the deck and began playing solitaire, with lack of anything better to do at the moment. It was mindless game, but at least it would help pass the time.

He almost tripped on the way out from the thanks, though just managed to continue walking normally. John found the three horses well cared for. Bucky and Tiller were munching hay placidly and didn't even bother to look up when John looked into their stalls. The third one that John had not paid too much attention to yet, though, was sweaty and its chest was bloody. He bit his lip, knowing that he really should just kill it, but found himself unable to do so. Everybody else would have given up on it, just like they'd given up on him… He sighed, shaking his head. No use getting attached, Sherlock would just make him sell it. He gave it a couple handfuls of hay, sneaking them over, and then rubbing its head. He checked the wound, glad to see it healing, and then went back inside and up the stairs. He looked down at his master on the floor in surprise. "Solitaire?" He asked curiously, and then nodded. One person, of course. Very few one-person card games. He stood awkwardly for a minute before speaking again "I could play with you…after I bathe, if that's alright with you."

Sherlock scowled at the game when he lost, he was sore loser after all. He liked to win at everything, even if was just against himself. He didn't look up when John came in and merely shrugged at the question. “The hell else am I supposed to do?” He muttered the words a little bitterly. “The only two-person card came I know is poker. Cards aren't really my area but I am decent enough at poker. You may bathe. After you do so, please take the letter on the table there to a delivery service and have it sent to the Holmes Manor. My brother needs to know we are behind schedule and we will be delayed a few more days still.” He finally looked up at his slave, pausing in playing. “John...I've been thinking. For all that you have done, is there something you want? Money of your own to spend maybe? I don't usually let slaves own things but I suppose I could make an exception. I've already done so on your account by letting you do this mission to begin with and the treatment I gave you while you healed.” He gave a faint smirk. “What is one more allowance at this point?” 

John walked over to the game, looking down over his Master's shoulder. "I can play poker with you. I'm not too good at any card games so you would most likely beat me." He was relieved to hear that he could take a bath. He hadn't taken one in two weeks, a real one at least. There had been washings of his body because of his injuries but no real baths. "Yes Sir." He agreed, heading for the bathroom. Sherlock's next words made him stop and turn around. "Really?" He asked, walking back over in slight shock. "Really?" he asked again, his lips twitching again in hope. "I…thank you, yeah. The…the last horse, the one you shot to get me away from the other man…can I keep it? It's injured but I..." He coughed and looked down. "I took the money from the men’s purses, but I also sold the other three and I already have it getting healed and…I can take care of it." He hoped that his Master would say yes. He felt like he could kiss Sherlock's feet in thankfulness if he was allowed to keep it.

Sherlock smirked a little. “In that case, do you want to make the game interesting? Strip poker maybe? I've seen the way you look at my John. It isn't very subtle. Although from the sounds of it, I'd be the one keeping my clothes on.” The smirk got bigger. He glanced up to his slave at the request of the horse. “What are you a teenage girl asking daddy for a pony?” He sighed but nodded. “Fine, you may keep it. However, you will be the one to take care of it. It will be no one’s responsibility but your own. And only after you have attended to whatever duties I have assigned to you for the day. It will stay here and we can pick it back up on the way back home. I will pay whomever generously to keep it in good health, fed and groomed. The money you took, if you have any left when we get back to the manor you'd do best to keep it hidden from the other slaves. They would literally kill you to take it from you.” He went back to his game and gave a small grow as he lost another hand.

"Strip poker? Alright, but I do have to bathe still." He sighed, sitting down. His face went an even brighter red at Sherlock's comment about not being subtle. "I wasn't trying to be subtle…besides, I can't help it if my eyes wander when I'm trying to get you into a bath and then keep your head above the water." He grumbled the words, flipping his cards in his hands a moment before looking at them. "Would you like me to call you 'daddy'?" He looked up at his Master with raised eyebrows, wiggling them a moment, before a small grin went across his face. He could keep it. The horse was his. He couldn't stop himself from reaching across the cards to give the man a hug, just a quick one, and then sitting back. "Yes, Sir. Of course. I might have to break anybody's hand who touches it..." John breathed out a bit shakily, the smile getting bigger. "You really are the best Master I've ever had…aside from the whipping but..." John looked into Sherlock's eyes, playing his next hand and not even bothered that he had to take off his shoes. "Thank you so much, Sir. They can try to kill me for it but they might end up losing a couple limbs."

Sherlock grinned. “I was going to let you bathe first but we can play now if you want. Loser sleeps on the floor tonight.” He rolled his eyes at having John call him 'daddy,' but a smirk tugged at his lips. “At this rate John, I will never have to whip you again. You are probably the best slave I've ever had. I don't give a damn if the others think I show you favoritism. Sod it. You've done more for me in the last few days than any of them who have been in my family their entire lives.” It was true. None of them would have stuck around to help him. Well, maybe a one or two would have. But anyone else would have run given the chance. Then again, maybe he hadn't given them much reason to stay. He blinked in surprise at the hug and it was short enough and he was confused long enough he didn't get a chance to return it. That would have been even more awkward for him he supposed. So, it was best he didn't even get the opportunity to do it anyway. “When we get back to the manor, you will be my personal slave. Basically, you will do all the mundane things I don't feel like doing, which is a lot. I'll be the first to admit I am high maintenance.”

"Let me bathe first so the only thing I have to take off is a towel? Nice try, Master, but I see your trick and you're just going to have to wait and get lucky to get my clothes off." John eyed his cards to see what his best bet would be to play. He really was not good at poker but he did like to think that his face had improved, making it a bit more difficult to see what his hand was like. He looked up at Sherlock with a blink. "I swore my life to you if you let me have my revenge, Sir. I never go back on a swear. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it, but you were my best chance. Besides, I hate to see people in pain if I haven't put them there, and I think that if you were to die with me around I would have your brother at my heels before I could blink and never survive. Plus, you saved me from yet another rape at the hands of those morons." John rolled his eyes, and then almost rolled his entire head about Sherlock being high maintenance. "I think that, after the last two days, I can handle your being high maintenance." He put down a straight and waiting for the other to play his hand.

Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle. When had he last just had a conversation with someone that didn't involve him yelling at a slave or issuing orders? It was a nice change of pace. “Oaths don't mean much to some people. You have earned my trust John, don't make me regret it or abuse it. Maybe even a little respect.” He stared at his cards blankly. He had shit, but didn't show it. “I don't like sharing my slaves with others. They can get their damned own if they want a fuck toy.” He truly seemed impartial about people being raped. It wasn't something he did, mainly because he wasn't very interested in sex. He'd had a few pleasure slaves from time to time, but he was usually busy doing other more important things. The business he did out of the manor in conjunction with his brother, who had an operation in the city and experiments. Reading if he had the time. This was almost a holiday of sorts, despite almost dying in ambush or from a fever.

John hummed, tapping his foot and waiting for his Master to play a hand. "Some people are arseholes and morons. Oaths are what I live my life by, rest assured. And, quite honestly, you've impressed me very much Sir. I actually…do respect you as well. I can't say so much for trust, as that is not a familiar concept or notion for me, but I do respect you. You have good aim and I suppose that your lack of desire to share can be seen as a positive in this light." The smile had faded from his face but it hardly stayed long anymore. At one point John had been severely against rape, and indeed he still was, but he knew that while there were Masters and slaves he could do nothing to change what had been in place for generations upon generations. "What do you have Sir?" He asked, tapping his cards. "I do have a bath to get to and a message to run." He murmured, tilting his head with a bit of an amused look on his face.

Sherlock had gotten lost in his head, as he often did from time to time. “It will take time to trust me, if you ever do. It isn't something I'm overly worried about to be honest. As long you do your job, and so far you have...exceedingly so I'd even say then we will stay on congenial terms.” Oh, right his hand. He had forgotten to put it down when he had started thinking. “I'll take my time if I want,” he muttered with feigned annoyance as he laid down a pair of two's. He shoved the cards to John so he could shuffle and deal next. He unbuttoned his shirt and then took it off completely, throwing it behind him without much care. “For someone who isn't very good, you aren't doing too bad at the start. Beginner's luck,” he teased.

John only nodded to his words, glad to see that he could keep some clothes on still. As his Master took off his shirt, John had the fleeting thought of if he was wearing pants or not. He rolled his eyes again. "If you take your time we won't leave for two more days." The words had no bite to them however. He had not played any sort of game in so long... It was nice to just be able to do this and relax some. "It must be beginner's luck because normally by this point with anybody else I'd be naked by now. Or is it that you don't want to see me without clothes on?" He raised his eyebrows and adopted a mock hurt expression. As he had thought, his next hand was not good at all. He would have to fold this round and lose by default.

“Maybe I just want to keep things interesting. It isn't any fun to win completely.” Sherlock smirked up at John and then looked down at his hand. It wasn't great but not terrible either. “I am curious about something John but I won't make you answer, if you don't want to. Would you ever let me shag you willingly? You obviously like what you see. It isn't something I take much interest in to be honest but maybe when I am bored and have nothing else to do. You do not have to worry about forcing myself on you. I do have other slaves who will consent.” He looked back up at his slave curiously, trying to ascertain the answer by reading body language.

"Ah, so you really aren't that good either then." John decided, nodding as though he was a wise old man. He set it down, folding, and reached for his socks. "Mmm…perhaps, Sir, but I cannot tell you for sure. I have never been sexually attracted to a man, but even I can tell you are attractive. So far it would only be out of obligation, but if our…relationship were to continue along these lines I think that perhaps I would not mind, and may even enjoy it. The only other times I have been with men were Masters. When I was a free man, though, I always took women to bed." He folded his socks and put them on top of his shoes. "Next hand."

Sherlock smirked a little. “Perhaps people just let me win since I hate losing so much, and maybe has less to do with me being good. I can be quite horrid if I do. Well, I am good at reading people. It’s sort of a knack I have.” He nodded at John's reply. “A well thought out answer and understandable. If the time ever comes, I will ask. If you say no, that is fine. It is one of the few things I allow a slave to deny me. As I said, I can just find someone else.” He picked up the cards, shuffled and then dealt. He picked up his cards when he finished dealing them out. It was a decent enough hand he wouldn't have to fold on his turn. He waited to see what his slave would do for this next round.

"Why, do you throw a tantrum and threaten to behead anybody who beats you in poker?" He asked, eyeing the cards he had gathered and mouthing a number of swear words. There was absolutely nothing he could play. He sighed and took off his shirt, setting his cards down and looking at his Master as he did. "Thank you, Sir." He murmured, finding the beginnings of another smile on his face. It almost hurt to do so, it had been so long since he had given a real smile. He waited for the next round of card, glad to see that he had something he could play though he hoped that Sherlock would have something worse than his own hand. John had become good at not focusing on his appearances, after working in the sun for all hours of the day and being beat. He paid no mind to the scars he had gathered, accepting them, and looked at his Master. "Do you remember anything of your fever?"

Sherlock smirked. “Something like that.” The smirk got bigger as he watched John take the shirt off. “On the plus side if you lose, you'll be ready to get in that bath you are so anxious to take.” He stared at his hand a moment before he looked up at John. “Not really. I think you may have bathed me once. Pretty sure I vomited at one point as well. Everything else is hazy.” He shrugged a little. “I didn't say anything stupid in my fevered state, did I?” His brows furrowed at that. He didn’t have a good hand so he just tossed them in and took his socks off. He hadn't put shoes on. He didn't see the point since he would just be in his room all day most likely anyway.

"Figures. I have an overgrown child for a Master." John gave a teasing grin at Sherlock. He stared for a moment at the long, bony feet of the other man and then looked at his own. They were wider than Sherlock's, though not quite as long, and the toes not so long and skinny either. "I did get you into the bath once, and yes, you did vomit right before I came in. You thought I was your brother and asked me not to leave, and then you told me your name because I mentioned I didn't know it." John realized that they didn't even have to play their cards to know who would be losing and stripping. He blinked with that realization and wondered if his Master knew it as well.

“I have been accused of such on many occasion.” Sherlock returned the grin. “I suppose it must be true, if so many people say so.” His eyes furrowed at what John told him about him being feverish. “I see,” he muttered with a frown on his lips. His good mood had just been ruined. “You win by forfeit. I quit.” He sighed and stood up, but he didn't have anywhere to go. He opted for the bed and turned his back to John. Had he really said something about his brother? Stupid. He would do something like that. “Take your bath and then deliver that letter. Take your time, I want to be alone. Go visit that horse of yours or something.” He sighed again, shutting his eyes but he wasn't sleeping. 

John frowned at Sherlock when he quit. Just when they were starting to have fun. He picked up the cards and put them back in the box, then crawled over to where his Master was laying. He hesitantly put a hand out and then on his head. "It's not a bad thing, you know. To miss family. And you still have him, even if you argue like cats and dogs." He stood and walked to where the cool bathwater was. There was even less for him then there had been for Sherlock, but he stripped the rest of the way and got into the bath. The water was chilled against his skin, but the chance to get the dirt off felt wonderful. He didn't take too long in the bath, washing carefully and getting out. He dried off quickly and got dressed, taking his coin purse and looking at his master. "Anything else you need while I'm out?"

Sherlock was surprised by the contact but didn't pull away from it. "It doesn't matter anymore," he muttered. Although it seemed he was trying to convince himself and not John. He kept his back turned the entire time his slave bathed. He was about to say 'no' but he paused in thought. "A book if you can find them for sale. Preferably nonfiction. You can get one too if you want, we are going to have a lot of down time while we are here." He turned to look at John finally. "An hour or so come back, I should be fine by then." He could have easily taken things out on his slave but maybe it was his fondness for John he decided to send him away instead.


	5. Chapter 5

John nodded at the orders, and when Sherlock turned he offered him what could have been either a small smile or a grimace. Smiles had not graced his face in years, and today he had already used enough to count on one hand and it made his cheeks ache a bit. "As you wish, Master." John headed out the door and down the stairs. He got the message to a post box quickly, and actually found a messenger. John gave him the letter and told him where to go, giving him a silver coin to get there and back within the day. Then he went to find a store, searching for books. He gathered four; one on horses for himself, one that told of the tale of a low-born knight and a prince, which was fiction so another for him, and then two for Sherlock on weapons and murders because he could think of nothing else for his Master. When he was done there, John went back to the stables. He had about fifteen minutes left to the hour his Master had requested, and so he checked on his horse and then read a bit. It was almost ten minutes after the hour that John returned, having been caught up in reading, and entered the room again. He walked over to Sherlock and handed him the books on weapons and murder. "The letter is sent and I got you two books. I got four in all, but for quite cheap...barely three bronze coins, and all the books are in quite good condition."

Sherlock got bored of pouting in bed. Of being in the room period. He got out of bed and he walked around upstairs in the corridor for a little while before he got tired and moved back to the room. He sighed and grabbed the cards again. He played several rounds of solitaire, not even paying attention to the time. He looked up when John returned and nodded. “It is fine, I am not worried about price. Set my books by the bed.” He didn't bother finishing the game, and just left the cards on the floor. He had never picked up after himself before, he wasn't going to start now. It is what slaves were for after all. He stood with a small groan and stretched out his legs a little, from sitting so long. “How is your horse doing?” He could tell his slave had been to the stalls, there were bits of hay still on him and the smell of equine was all over him.

John looked at his Master balefully for a moment before sighing and kneeling to pick up the cards. It was why he was here, and it wasn't like his Master had been doing anything worse than playing solitaire again. "You might not be but I try to find things for cheap. It leaves you with more. Though I suppose you don't have to worry about stuff like that." John put the cards back in their box and then set them with their clothes. He blinked at the question and nodded. "Good. Going to heal fine though with a bit of a scar. The ladies like scars though." John joked, though it looked a bit awkward with his straight face. "How are you doing? Not dizzy, no headache, no sore body anywhere?" He eyed his Master up and down once again to make sure he was alright.

Sherlock could only smirk at the look John gave him, before his slave picked up the cards. He shrugged about the money. “I have more money that I know what to do with, to be honest. Even with sharing half of everything with my brother. Sometimes I consider selling my half of the business to go do something more interesting and exciting but I always find something to talk myself out of it.” He sighed at that as he sat down on the bed after stretching and only nodded with a vague interest when the horse was mentioned. “I'm fine. Just tired. I did some walking and it wore me out I think, but it did more good than anything I hope. I am ready to eat again. I need to keep my strength up. If you could bring me something other than ale that tastes like watered down piss, it would be much appreciated.”

His Master was a bastard but John already knew and accepted that fact. He closed his eyes about the money, not wanting to think about how rich Sherlock was if he was bored by it. John was glad that Sherlock was mildly interested about his horse. It actually made him glad that he was relatively more interesting than the other slaves back at the manor. Although he did outright laugh at the ale comment. "Sad to say but I actually have had to drink watered down piss and it actually tasted better than that." John grinned, and then turned around to get some food. He came back up with potatoes, meat, and some water. "I hope this is more to your liking Sir." He gave Sherlock one plate and kept the other for himself. "Will we be leaving tomorrow if you feel up to it?"

Sherlock made a face at John saying he'd actually had watered down piss, even if in a joking manner. Now that he had thought about, he should have had John by some fine wine for them while out. Oh well. He smirked and looked down at the food and let out an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose it will have to do. Making your Master suffer so with such food,” he said with a mock depressed tone. “Maybe. Unlikely though. We'll see how I am feeling.” He would love to leave tomorrow. It would mean being free of the room he felt confined to at the moment. Although it hadn't been as horridly boring as he thought it would be.

"Horrid food...practically a feast for me. I may not be able to finish it all," John responded in a mournful tone. He began to eat with great relish, only finishing half of his potatoes and half of his meat. He stared at it from his position on the floor, tapping his toes. He hated to leave such good food go to waste, but he didn't think he'd be able to eat any more without making himself sick. He really did want to leave the next day. It meant that he was that much closer to killing his father. He drank some of his water and looked at Sherlock, and bit his lip before asking "Is Sherlock your real name, or what you call yourself?"

Sherlock smirked a bit. He actually finished his food and then eyed John's plate. “You going to finish that?” He didn't usually eat so much but he supposed he was making up for vomiting yesterday and likely losing everything in his stomach. He blinked at the question. “You think I'd go by a name like Sherlock if it wasn't my real name?” He relented after a while though, sighing a bit. “William Sherlock Scott Holmes,” he muttered his whole name to his slave. He had never told that to anyone before. Only Mycroft knew it now, as both their parents had passed away already. “You will not address me by any of those names unless you wish to call me Master Holmes.” The last bit hadn't even been a request but a command he expected John to follow.

"Thinking about it and wondering if I can finish it without it making a reappearance once I finish." John felt a small grin creeping up at his Master's whole name. "And your brother's name is Mycroft...you certainly had some interesting parents...you can tell how much fun mine were with the naming process-John for me and Harriet for my sister. Could you be any more dull?" He asked, rolling his eyes. He had met at least a hundred Johns in his years as a slave. "Unless you give me express permission you will never be anything but 'Master' or 'Sir'. Believe me, I found that one out the hard way years ago." John took another nibble of his potatoes, working on keeping the memories of previous Masters suppressed. No need to break down here, in front of Sherlock. No need to seem weak when he needed to be strong to kill his father.

Sherlock frowned, pouting a bit when didn't get the food. It was probably better that way. He should be worried about over eating as well, like John. “Yes, my parents liked...original names I suppose you could say. Sometimes I call Mycroft, Mike just to annoy him. He is more of a child about some things than I am, if you believe it. Of course, you are not to use his name either. My brother is more like my father when it comes to dealing with slaves. I'm milder than they are, I suppose I take a bit after my mum in that respects. Though I am not near as kind as she was. I still have my father's temper.” He shrugged a little. “Since we are sharing and being candid, how long have you been a slave? How many Masters did you have before me?”

John only took two more bites before sliding the plate over to his Master. "I bet he hates that. He didn't seem very pleased when we left." John murmured the words as he pulled his knees up. He had to roll hid eyes at Sherlock, but the question made him tense a little. Still, he had no choice but to answer. That was part of the life he led, so he tipped his head back to think. "Let me think...Father sold me when I was fourteen, and that was...almost twelve years ago now. So...twelve years as a slave with no way to get back at him, and as for Masters..." He took a deep breath and settled in to think. Three his first year, four the next, and then after that he would barely survive three months... He no longer knew how many he'd had and John opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. "I don't know. I was not very good as a slave. I'm still not. I was mouthy, which you know, but also violent...they couldn't keep me with the other slaves or I would start fights. A couple tried to get me to be a breeder, but I got so angry because it brought back what my father did that they would have to knock me out to keep me from attacking the woman or the men sent in to get me... I know I had three my first year, when they forgave me for being new to the slave life, and four the next year...but after that it's blurry. Only a few have stood out. Like Irene Adler, and Michael Stamford, and...Victor Trevor. He used to have this man he called Jim come to his place and they'd take turns with me because of how much I fought them. They had a lot of fun, but I almost killed Victor after just a few months of him owning me and he sent me to you." John looked at his hands, the left one shaking from old nerve damage, and he clenched it into a fist. "Many years and many men and women." He finished, looking at the bed instead of his Master.

Sherlock took the plate eagerly and wasted little time finishing the food off. “He and I don't really get on well anymore. We used to when we were younger, when our parents were alive. But now...” He trailed off with a shrug and didn't bother to go into further detail about his relationship with his older brother. Mycroft certainly hadn't been pleased when he told him what John would be up to either but there really was no point lying. His brother was better at deducing people than he was. The bastard was never wrong it seemed. He listened quietly to his slave and didn’t comment for a long time afterward. He knew Jim, but not well. Just through the slave trade really and that was all. “Victor does come by the manor from time to time. I will make sure to send you out on some errands when I know he will be around. Although he has been known to show up unannounced. I will expect you to conduct yourself in polite fashion should the occasion arise and you two interact. He knows how I feel about others touching my slaves, so he should leave you alone. Although, not much I can do to stop him from being condescending and sneering at you. If you are rude back, I will punish you. Slaves are _never_ to be rude to any guest that comes to my manor.”

It was a bit amusing how quickly his Master took his plate. Almost any other person would never 'stoop so low' as to eat off a slave's plate. And yet Sherlock took it without the fear it would give him 'slave germs'. It was nice to be considered almost human for once. He frowned, hearing that Victor would be coming over, but he nodded. "I'll do my best to stay out of his path. And if he does talk to me I'll keep my head down and my tongue sheathed." John knew it would take a colossal amount of will to keep his mouth shut. "Maybe seeing me so well behaved at your place will get him pissed off without me having to even say word..." John grinned a bit, loving the idea of Victor seeing him behave so much better after only three weeks with Sherlock, whereas after three weeks with Victor, John was still running around causing a ruckus. "I really don't want to be punished again. The whipping I don't mind, it was being left out for three days that had me falling."

Sherlock smirked. “It will most assuredly piss him off and he will likely try and keep at you in hopes of getting a rise out of you. Although I can already hear him swearing and asking me repeatedly what I did to get you to behave. So, I actually look forward to that because he is always telling me how much of a better Master he is because I'm too lenient.” He rolled his eyes at that. “Yes, well it was obvious you had been beaten before and it didn't really do much good so that is why I left you there for three days.” He shrugged. “If you are exceedingly rude, I will cut your tongue out. That wasn't just an idle threat. Although I do hope that doesn't happen since I am coming to enjoy talking with you.”

"Then I will not talk if only to piss him off. And the fact that I like my tongue." John looked at his Master almost reproachfully. "Your favorite threat seems to be to cut my tongue out. Do you do anything else? And as long as we are...alone like this is it alright for me to speak frankly to you?" He was curious as to how much he could trust his words with Sherlock, if he would be allowed to speak with him if they were alone back at the manor or if they would have to continue as though this entire journey had never happened. John actually felt a ball of nerves tighten in his stomach at the thought of not being able to speak like this anymore, when he realized he was enjoying speaking with Sherlock like this.

That got a laugh out of Sherlock. “It works, doesn't it?” He gave a grin. He was being serious about it though. He would do it if he thought it needed to be done. He thought about that question for a moment. “When we are alone like this, we may speak candidly to each other. I just might have you sleep in my room, so we can have privacy from time to time at the manor. I really do enjoy these talks we have. The other slaves will just assume I am keeping you for pleasure I am sure. You will have to sleep on the floor unless you want to share a bed. I will leave that entirely up to you. Sleeping in the same bed does not equate to fucking, by the way. I've already told you I would never make you do that, but just wanted to be clear on that anyway. Although to be honest, I don't sleep much. If the bed isn't in use, you can use it. Best damn sheets money can buy on that bed.”

John was glad to be able to make his Master laugh. He smiled a little, his eyes lighting up. "I suppose it does, yes. What do you do with tongues after you cut them out?" He asked curiously, and then put a hand over his mouth and giggled. "Probably not the best question to ask." He visibly relaxed at being able to continue speaking with his Master like this. Sherlock really was the best Master he had had over the years. Mike Stamford had been nice, but too nice and as a result his slaves were a tumultuous bunch who tried to run the house on their own. He shrugged at Sherlock's words, giving him an apologetic look. "The last twelve years it has, so...forgive me...for not being eager to jump right in." He thought of sleeping in a real bed with real, warm, soft sheets made him eager to try it. Truly the best Master he'd had.

Sherlock waited to reply until John had finished speaking completely. “Well, I've never had to cut one out. You are the first I've ever had to threaten with that. I remember my father did once, on a particularly insolent slave. He didn't think my father would actually do it. He kept the tongue in a jar in embalming fluid as a trophy and reminder to other slaves just how serious he was. I think it is still in his study on the mantle of the fireplace.” He paused thoughtfully for a moment. “I could arrange for a cot to be put in the master bedroom I suppose. Sleeping on the floor will ruin even the best back after a while. I would like to keep you strong and healthy. I might go out more for business and you will be with me, anytime I should depart from the manor. A body guard if you will. In case I run into any more bandits.” He smirked a little at that.

"How sweet," John teased, "I'd be your first." He yawned, putting his hand to his mouth, and peered out the window to see the sky growing dark. The day had passed quite quickly, and John blinked in surprise at how late it already was. "Can I see it when we get back?" John asked, turning back to look at his Master. "I've never seen a human tongue out of a mouth before." And it sounded interesting. He nodded his thanks at Sherlock getting a cot, though he imagined that he would still lay on the verge of falling out when he did first begin to share the bed. "You're so sweet, wanting to keep me strong." He could understand the need for a guard. "If you always travel in a carriage like that it's no wonder you get attacked. Although I would be lying if I said it wasn't fun at all...it was a bit amusing to be able to fight again." John sighed, feeling happy about the bruises on his knuckles and stomach from the fight.

Sherlock grinned at John's teasing. He followed his slave's gaze to the window. The day had gone by quicker than he thought it would. That was good though. It meant he hadn’t been terribly bored too long. “Sure, don't see why not. But that means you get to clean the room too. It is quite the mess. I usually don't let slaves clean that part of the house. I find solace in the chaotic mess but it is getting a bit out of hand, even for me.” He nodded at the mention of the fight. “I do like a bit of danger in my life. Besides, I don't particularly enjoy riding horses. Why should I anyway? When I can have someone drive he around in a carriage I can relax in?” He put the plates down on the floor and stretched out on the bed. “Take the dishes away and light a fire for the night. We should both sleep soon.”

"Cleaning. I have become a master at cleaning, Sir, you'll just have to tell me where you want things so I don't put them in the wrong places and have my tongue threatened again. Or my fingers. Also, riding can get you places faster than being in a carriage. If you're good you don't even need a saddle. Just hop on and go, whereas with a carriage you need to wait for the horses to be put in place, tacked up, carriage hooked up..." John stood and bent backwards a little, stretching and popping his back and wincing as the almost-healed cuts on his back were pressed together. Still, it was a good pain and he stooped to pick up the dishes. "Has anybody ever told you that you're a lazy arse?" John asked, though he smiled a little to show he was only teasing again. "I'll just be a few minutes. You'd better be sleeping with clothes on tonight so you don't catch cold and get sick again."

Sherlock nodded. “Yes, of course. It would drive me crazy if I couldn't find anything in the den. To be fair, I've never threatened to cut off your fingers. I could start if you like.” He gave John a grin but it quickly turned to scowl. “I don't care about how long it takes to get somewhere. I am rarely in a hurry when it comes to business matters. Besides, I'm not the one who has to set up the carriage. Slaves do it for me.” He shrugged but then his eyes narrowed momentarily. “Careful John,” he warned when told he was lazy. He managed to relax and smirk at his slave. “Well, since I am so lazy you can hand me my shirt since it is still on the floor from playing strip poker.”

John rolled his eyes but couldn't find it in him to be too perturbed by Sherlock's obvious lack of care. He had been raised in this life, and honestly John would have been the same if not for his father. He put an arm out, picked up Sherlock's shirt with his foot, and tossed it towards him. It hit his Master on the chest and slid down into his lap. "I know it's not a hand, but you got it." John grinned at his Master before walking out. The ground was cold on his feet, but he at least still wore his shirt, trousers, and pants. He deposited the dishes and returned upstairs, quickly stoking the fire up. Within no time at all, the fire was warming the room. John turned to his Master, eyeing the bed. It was fair-sized but still a bit small. He could handle it, though. He would. He was getting to sleep on a bed after all.

Sherlock snorted at how John gave him his shirt. “Smart arse,” he muttered as his slave left the room. He put the shirt on and buttoned it back up. He snuggled under the sheets and noticed John looking at the bed. “Oh? Will you be joining me today? I suppose I could be bothered to move over to make room.” He grinned but moved towards the edge to make room for John, should his slave decide to lay down next to him. “You want to make sure I stay warm don't you? I would hate to get sick again.” Another grin. He wasn't sure if John would actually do it, but the space would be there should his slave to decide to do so. He yawned, pulling the sheets up around him a little tighter. It was clear he had forgotten about the bet or perhaps just conveniently forgot the terms of it.

"I may." John murmured, though he walked over to the bags and rummaged around for his pajamas. He changed quickly, not worried about being seen nude because Sherlock had previously cut all his clothes off. He'd already seen it all. He rubbed the fabric of his shirt between his fingers, marveling at how soft and thick and perfect it was. He slid it on, allowing himself a small shiver of pleasure at the feel of it on his skin, before approaching the bed. He got in stiffly, turning first his front to Sherlock, and then his back. The feel of the sheets on his body was relaxing, but the warmth of his Master a bit worrying. He fell into a light sleep, waking up every time his Master moved and then falling back asleep. He found himself gravitating towards Sherlock during the night, trying to keep warm, but he remained in his light doze.

Sherlock nodded and fell asleep shortly after John had got in the bed. He could feel his slave being restless, as he was a relatively light sleeper when he wasn't in a fever induced semi coma. He wanted to grumble and force John still but that would be a bad idea, given how skittish his slave was about getting in bed with him to begin with. He sighed quietly and stared up the ceiling, trying to take care not to touch John too much but the bed wasn't nearly as big as the one he had back at the manor. He didn't sleep well, despite being worn out from the day. Maybe they could just leave the town and he could nap in the carriage. He would at least get sleep that way.

When John woke up for good he had a hand on Sherlock's arm, and his knees on the other man's hips. He was curled up so that his head was almost on his Master's shoulder, and he slowly removed himself. The bed was warm but the fire had died during the night. He carefully slid out of bed to get it up again, and then exited the room to grab breakfast. He moved quickly, the floors even colder than they had been the previous night, and he was down and up again in less than five minutes. Unsure if Sherlock was sleeping, he put his Master's dish on the nightstand by the bed as well as one of the glasses and the pitcher of water he had grabbed to eat with. "Master?" he asked, sitting on the ground by the nightstand, curious if the man was awake or not.

Sherlock was already awake when John got out of bed. He really hadn’t expected any kind of contact during the night. It didn't make him uncomfortable, he just wasn't used to it. He'd pretty much slept alone his whole life and he realized now just how strange it was to share a bed with someone else. Maybe it was just because the bed was so small in comparison. He hadn't moved from his spot and his gaze was staring sleepily at the ceiling. He yawned when John spoke to him. “I'm awake,” he mumbled. “Hope you slept better than I did.” He sat up and stretched. “Since you are so damned eager we will leave today. Get things prepared. I am going to bathe and then get a quick breakfast. Have everything packed and ready in less than two hours.” He was a little disgruntled this morning and it would just be for the best if he didn't interact with his slave much for the day. Putting John to work and then riding in a carriage all day would basically minimalize contact.

"Marginally," John murmured, nodding although his Master wasn't looking at him. "I brought breakfast up for you, Sir." He began to eat his own breakfast quickly and quietly, not wanting to aggravate his Master any further. It was obvious that he hadn't slept well, and John regretted taking part of the bed a bit. He finished eating, and then made sure everything was packed, changing his clothes and taking his things out so his Master could get dressed. He packed the carriage tightly, running out to get a few more things for the first aid supply since he had used some on Sherlock. He also got a bit of alcohol in case anything worse happened to them on the road. Once all of that was stored, he went back up. Since his Master had changed by then he took his items down as well, finishing the packing and then helping to get the horses set up. When their two were hooked up and chomping at the bit to go, John checked on his one last time, rubbed its head, and then went back up the stairs. He knocked on the door and peered in. "Master? Everything is ready if you are."

Sherlock shouldn't be mad at John he supposed. It had been his idea to let his slave sleep with him after all. Perhaps it was something they would both have to get used to. He hadn't realized just how much of a change it would be. He ate hastily and only a small portion of it, since he had eaten quite a bit at dinner last night. He disrobed, throwing clothes on the floor like usual and then took a quick bath. He redressed, wearing his favorite purple buttoned up shirt and black trousers that had been custom tailored to fit him. He blinked in surprise at the knock but nodded. “Yes, I am ready.” He flipped a gold piece on the bed for the maid that had been in charge of their room. His mum had always taught him to tip generously whenever he could, even if made his father furious for 'wasting money frivolously on waiting staff.' He went down to the waiting carriage and climbed in, waiting for John to start their journey again.

John couldn't stop his gaze from taking in his Master appreciatively. He was asking for such gazes, the way he paraded around with his head high and his buttons tight over his chest. John felt proud to think to himself, as he turned and headed for the stables one last time on the way out, that he _knew_ what lay beneath those layers. He knew what his Master looked like naked. Fit and trim and in need of more food and fat on his bones. He paid the groom and told him to split the money to thanks for the help, and then hopped on the carriage. He made sure Sherlock was in, and then snapped the reins. The horses walked, all the way to the edge of town. John had them trot, and then lope when they were on the flats. They were good horses and were good for putting up with what Sherlock put them through. John hummed again, falling into singing to pass the time. He had seen all of the landscape before, over various years, and enjoyed pointing out to the horse’s places where he had been a slave at. “Bucky, the estate to our left? Yeah, that was where I was first traded because of a fight. “Tiller, those three trees? Yeah, on the right. I was left to be picked up with the trash because I didn't want to be a breeder. Oh, this man, he actually has sex with all of his female slaves, but he goes to the breeding quarters with the slave men to make it seem like he's overseeing them breed. He's a sick bastard." He kept up the talking as they reached the next town before noon. "Master, do you want to stop here or keep going?" Personally, he needed to relieve his bladder but he could wait if he had to.

It didn't take long for Sherlock to fall asleep, as he had already stretched out on the cushioned bench. The constant sound of hoof beats had been strangely comforting and allowed him to sleep easily. It took a moment for him to register the words spoken to him and he groaned as he sat up slowly. “Yes, that is fine. We can stop for a short lunch. A piss too, if you need it.” He felt much better than he had before, as this sleep had been sound and unbroken even if it had been short. He didn't really need a lot of sleep. Four hours and he was fine but the sleep last night hadn't been fitful. He would dig a book out of the luggage before they left again. He hadn't looked through them yet and he was curious to see what John had bought him.

John nodded, slowing the horses to a walk as they entered. He kept his head up only to be look for a place for them to eat while. He kept his gaze demur and respectful, seeing a number of his previous Masters look at him driving the high-class carriage and letting shocked expressions cross their faces. He stopped at a restaurant he knew served good food, stopping the horses and then hopping down to tie them quick. It would be a short stop, and John figured that if anybody complained Sherlock would pay them off. He opened the door. "Master, we're here. Short lunch, as you said." One of the previous Masters, a man who had tried to break John with his whips, had followed, curious to see who had made the rebellious slave so well behaved.

Sherlock nodded as he stepped out once the door was opened. “Thank you, John.” He eyed the man following his slave. “Back off,” he growled. Jesus. Was he going to have to beat everyone off with a stick that came around his slave? Maybe he should start carrying a gun. Would that make people think twice? He stopped at the door of the restaurant, waiting for John to open it for him. He could have done it on his own but he wanted to rub it in the other’s faces how good his slave was for him, when he had been so disobedient for everyone else. “Just get us some fish and chips,” he told his slave when they entered the building. He went and found them a table and waited for John to bring the food over. Hopefully no one else would bother them. He typically had an ill temperament around people. Even though John was just a slave, the man was a rare exception.

John nodded and shut the door, keeping his smile at seeing the man who had once owned him falter. Sherlock really was grabby with what was his, and protective of it as well. His previous owner didn't seem to grasp that and followed them, staring at John as he followed Sherlock's order without fuss. The man turned to Sherlock.

"Excuse me sir, I couldn't help but notice that your slave...I used to own him, a number of years ago, but he never did such a thing before. How did you come by him, and get him to behave so well?" The man asked. John heard him from where he was ordering the food, and listened carefully, keeping a low and respectful tone, also making it easier to listen to the conversation.

Sherlock sighed as they were followed inside, clearly annoyed by the man. “I believe that is none of your business. It isn't my fault you don't know to train a slave properly, but in answer to your first question he was gift from a friend who had grown tired of him in a matter of weeks. I didn't even have to pay for him. Quite a lucky catch, if you ask me. Not sure why anyone would have trouble him.” He shrugged and then lifted his head fractionally to smirk at the man. No need to say he had trouble with John on the first day. “Now, I would like to enjoy my lunch with my slave without further interruption so if you could go annoy someone else, it would be greatly appreciated.” God, he hoped the man would leave or he would only be more rude and hopefully then his point would be made.

John grabbed the food and took the tray over, thanking the woman. "Excuse me, Sir." He murmured the words, keeping his head down as he slid past the man, careful not to touch him. He set the plate before Sherlock and then his own in front of himself. He waited for Sherlock to begin eating, knowing that the man behind them wouldn't leave quite yet. He was staring instead, mouth open at the polite slave before him.

"Is this...is this John?" He looked at the slave closer, grabbing his chin and pulling it up, nodding to himself that it was John. Some of the people in the store had heard of Sherlock, a few had even met him, and the entire dining area was silent to see what happened. John didn't move, though his fingers twitched minutely. His eyes did not meet his previous Master's, only looked to the side of his head politely. The entire dining area was watching them, as many had known John as well.

Sherlock had only taken one bite of his food when he let out what would be best described as a feral snarl the moment the stranger had touched John. “That slave _is_ mine and I allow no one to touch my property without prior consent. You have exactly ten seconds to let go of him or I will drive a steak knife through that hand you dare to use to touch him.” To help prove his point and show he was serious, he picked up the knife from the silverware setting on the table and slammed it down point first dangerously close to the man's arm. His grip was tight around the handle, knuckles white. His eyes were narrowed and there was scowl on his face. He seemed pretty oblivious to how quiet the place had become and everyone staring at them now.

The man jumped away from John, narrowing his eyes at Sherlock. "No need to be possessive, he is not a slave I would ever want in my household again. He's a menace to the life of your slaves and if you were smart you would kill him or sell him." He was clearly attempting to save face at this point. He let John's chin go and the slave's head drifted back down to looking at the food, waiting for his Master to eat. As the man walked out, the chatter began again, hushed though. John looked up carefully at Sherlock's face.

"Would you like a new knife, sir?" He asked politely, the tables closest to them still listening. John's tale had been passed around the town for years, since he had been sold out of it, and now those who remembered him were surprised to see him behave as a slave should.

Sherlock remained rigid, glaring at the man until the stranger finally left the table. “Fucking prat,” he swore and let go of the knife. He sighed and forced him to relax, ignoring everyone around them still and then resumed eating. “No, it is fine. I won't need it.” That and it would be a warning sign to anyone else that would dare come and touch his slave. He had seen John's fingers twitch and was pleased with the restraint his slave showed. He didn't want to stay in this town any longer than was needed. Hopefully no one else would be stupid enough to interrupt. He just might drive the knife through someone's heart next time.

John felt as though he could kiss the man out of gratitude, and nodded. He began eating when his Master did, keeping his head down and not looking up when people passed. He knew that Sherlock's possessive show would keep anybody else from bothering them. When he finished he sat and waited for his orders, making sure he kept up the image of the most respectful slave that had ever been to this town. A couple people came by to take their plates, and John waited for his Master to tell him what to do.

Sherlock managed not to smirk, although he was now amused by the situation at hand. “Relieve yourself if you must. Before we get going again, fetch me one of my books to read for the remainder of the ride. Off you go now.” He left money for the food and then stood up. He was going to need to pee himself. He walked out of the building when John had opened the door for him and then made his way to a public out house. He didn't take a lot of time to piss in the foul smelling shed. He went back to the carriage and stood by the door, while he waited for John to let him in so they could get back on the road.

John nodded, following his Master's orders. As soon as his Master was out the door a number of people reached out for him and then stopped halfway, half-afraid that if they touched him then Sherlock would swarm back in and stab them. John quickly used the loo and returned to the carriage, going straight to the luggage and pulling out the book on murders he had gotten for his Master. He held it out to Sherlock, waiting until he grabbed it, and then checked the horses. Somebody had loosened their reins and he frowned, going around them and making sure everything was tight and fit. He even checked the carriage. A couple things were loose, but nothing was missing or broken. That was good. John tightened what had been loosened, took the reins, and climbed back on to wait for Sherlock to tell him that they were good to leave.


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock took the book and watched John curiously while his slave seemed to be fixing a few things here and there. He grumbled to himself with a shake of his head. “Let's go John.” He just wanted to get the hell out of the town now. They wouldn't be stopping here on the way back that was for sure. Too many annoying people for his tastes. He looked at the book in his hands for the first time and couldn't help but smirk when he saw it was on murders. What an interesting choice. He pulled the shade up to let in light, opened the book and then began reading. He stopped when he noticed it was beginning to get dark. “John, it will be dark soon. Do try to make it to the next town with haste. I don't want to get stuck out on the road in the middle of the night again.” He made sure to speak loud enough to be heard of the hoof beats and the rolling carriage.

They managed to get through four more towns, working the horses hard. They had one more day of travel left, and the day after they could get to his father's...soon. The fifth town, the one that was only two away from his father's, was coming up soon, within the hour. "Yes, Sir. We should be in the next town soon. I'd rather not be stuck out here again either." As he had thought, he got them to the town within the hour. He pulled up to a nice looking inn, and stopped the horses. It was still the early hours of the night, and grooms swarmed out to help take the horses in. John climbed down and once again opened the door for Sherlock. Once his Master was out, John closed the door and went to grab their luggage. He followed Sherlock into the inn as the horses were pulled off the carriage and taken into the stable.

Sherlock had enjoyed what he read of the book so far, finding it fascinating. Particularly about Jack the Ripper, whom had never been caught. He was glad they were able to get to an inn without further incident. When John opened the door, he got out and tipped one of the boys taking care of the carriages nicely. “Take good care of them and there is more where that come from for you and your friends.” He paid for two rooms this time and gave his slave a key. “Here. We will both sleep better this way I think.” He gave a slight smile. “And God, stop being so formal. It’s...weird seeing you like that.” The smile twitched into a smirk and then he made his way up the stairs to his room. His slave's was right next door as he had requested.

John was glad to see a smile on Sherlock's face, as small as it was. It wasn't too bad to see him tipping nicely as well. He followed his Master up the stairs, keeping his face straight, but as soon as they were out of sight he joined his side. "I'm trying to put on the 'respectful slave' act while we're around other people. It's easier than them telling you that you should show me my place and tell me that slaves don't speak to their Masters like I do to you. I told you I'd be better, didn't I? It means that I'll use the correct terms and manners around people who don't understand....our relationship." He opened the door to his room, looking around before stepping inside. There was a door to connect their rooms, and he was glad to see it. "Sleep well Sir." John gave Sherlock a small smile and then closed the door slowly.

Sherlock smirked again. "I know, thank you. I suppose we do have an unusual Master, slave relationship." He certainly didn't have it with any of his other slaves. "I know you wanted to punch that man who touched you today. You did well not too." He gave a small smile and then retired to his own room. Since he had napped while in the carriage, he wasn't all that tired. He lit a candle and began reading the book again, after he had climbed into bed. He ended up falling asleep at some point, the book falling against his chest and the candle burned down to the nub. Not the best sleeping position either, his back and head rested on the headboard of the bed.

John stuck his head out the door to look at his Master. "Unusual...that's one way to put it." John spoke quietly through a smile. He could think of a handful of other words. Unique. Different. Strange. But unusual worked. John grinned and said goodnight, closing the door. He heard his Master in the next room, moving around, and he took comfort in the sound of not being completely alone. He took a fast bath, and then put on his pajamas. This time when he fell into the bed, he was out almost immediately.

Sherlock slept until a little before dawn. He yawned and stretched, working out the kinks in his neck. He finally got out of bed, grumbling to himself. He hadn't meant to sleep in his clothes. He sighed, got out fresh clothes from the luggage and took a quick bath. He redressed after he was finished washing and then knocked on the door to his slave’s room. "John, before we go for the day I want to talk with you." He sat down on the bed and waited for his slave to come in his room. He had meant to have the conversation last night but he had forgotten about it until recently.

John was up at around the same time, given as slaves were supposed to be up, working, and ready before their Masters. That was one bit of the life that he had grown accustomed to and didn't mind too much. He was lying halfway off the bed, staring up at the ceiling and just being, just because he could relax right now, when Sherlock knocked on his door. He took a few moments to slide the rest of the way off the bed, landing on the floor with a soft thunk, and then standing. He walked over to the door, glad to feel that his back was not hurting at all, and stepped through. He looked at his Master, taking a few steps over and standing in front of him. "Yes?" he asked, wondering what they had to talk about.

"I have not discussed our escape plan with you yet. Mainly because at the time my brother and I came up with it, I was still unsure if I could trust you. I feel like I can now. You have done very well for me since we have left the manor. When we get to the town your father lives in, we will be meeting with one of Mycroft's slaves. We will unhitch the horses from the carriage and hide them nearby where we plan to hide. My brother's slave will take the carriage back with different horses. This is in case we need to make a quick getaway and it is obviously less conspicuous than running from a crime scene in a carriage. We will have bags with supplies and clothes that should last a few days. I didn't tell you before because I was unsure if you would run off on one of the horses after you were done. I do not believe this to be the case now." Sherlock looked at John the whole time he spoke, to gauge his slave’s reaction.

John listened closely, nodding. He was not offended at all to know that his Master had not trusted him, for he had felt similar. "We will be riding once he is dead?" John asked, to make sure he understood. "Will we be returning to the carriage at some point, then? Or will your brother's slave take it all the way back?" John was mentally taking into account the stone quarry where they could hide the horses, in the back near the trees, and the easiest ways in and out of it. They would have to keep the horses in the bottom of wherever they stayed, though more likely between the quarry and the forest so their hooves wouldn't make too much noise. The quarry was at least two miles from his family home, and there were few places to hide them any closer. "When we get to the quarry where we will be hiding? Will you have me set off for my father on my own or join me?"

Sherlock nodded. "I would prefer to leave as quickly as possible after you have killed him. My brother's slave will return all the way back. He can be trusted. He has been Mycroft’s personal slave almost his whole life and is pretty devoted to him. His name is Gavin or Graham or something beginning with 'G' anyway." He gave a slight dismissive shrug. "You will go on your own. I will wait no longer than five hours for you. If you are not back by then I will assume you are either dead or got caught and I will leave without you. I will want to get a lay of the land firsthand. You should also stay out of sight as much as possible. People might recognize you and put two and two together."

"As you wish Sir." John knew that if he was caught he would sooner to take his own life then have somebody else kill him. His lips twitched when he realized that Sherlock didn't know the man's name, despite having to know him for most of his life. He'd ask when they met up with him. He did some calculations in his head--he'd have to be quick on both the horse and the death of his father. "I'll do it during the night, then. Most of the slaves will be asleep, and my father used to regularly stay up in his study or somebody's quarters. He should be easy enough to track down..." His heart beat a little faster-it was happening, it was really happening. He could kill his father, finally. "I'll stay in the forest. It can't have changed too much since I left. Everybody used to say it was haunted." He rolled his eyes at the mere thought.

Sherlock nodded, pleased. “Good, glad we have that all figured out now. We can hammer out the finer details when we get there. Now, go get us some breakfast. Then we will go afterward, once you have the horses readied and the luggage packed. And John, excellent choice in the book. I am enjoying it, thank you.” He gave his slave a smile and shifted on the bed some to get more comfortable. He wasn't feeling tired like he had been the other day and he was certainly much better than the previous days. He hoped things would continue going well from this point forward.

"Yes Sir." John was to the door when Sherlock thanked him for the book. He ducked his head, blushing a little, and nodded. "You're welcome Sir. I thought you'd get bored of money schemes and history books, so murder was the next best thing." He headed down the stairs after that but came back up with breakfast for them quickly. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "Are you going to be inside your carriage today or with me so I know your brother's slave when he appears?" John asked, taking a bite of the eggs on his plate.

Sherlock smirked at the blush, pleased with himself. He was still on his bed when John returned with breakfast. He let out a fake, long suffering sigh. “I suppose I can be bothered to ride up front with the likes of a slave.” He grinned at John before he began eating. The food was decent enough and he finished off his plate quickly enough. He was ready to go and he got up off the bed, setting the plate aside. He knew his slave would get it. He was just living up to his name as 'lazy arse' and he couldn't help but smirk a bit at the thought, as he recalled John telling him those exact words just the other day.

John rolled his eyes, though he wasn't as offended as he would have been once. "You know, I'm pretty sure this slave has helped to save your life...going on three times now?" He asked, holding up three fingers on his hand. "Once when we were attacked, a second time when I didn't leave you alone with the carriage and no horses, and then when you were sick?" He grinned, though, and stood as well. He took the plate with only a small grumble of annoyance at Sherlock, but took them down to the kitchen where he cleaned them and then went out to the stable. He got the horses hooked up and ready, double checked their gear, and then returned to his Master. "Everything is ready Sir." He then went into his room to change his clothes.

Sherlock smirked. “I suppose I will endure your company then, but only because you have saved my life so many times John.” Another smirk. He was enjoying their little banter they had started as of late. “Excellent. Do you still want to put on a show for everyone? It will look strange if I get up front with you while in town, since you are such a good slave for me now.” He grabbed his book and then left the room, returning the keys to the inn keeper and he tipped the stable boys again for looking after his horses.

John couldn't stop the grin from sliding across his face when Sherlock claimed he would endure his company. "Don't try to sound like a martyr, Sir, it only makes you sound pretentious." He called out while changing in his room. He put everything back in his luggage then went to wait for Sherlock. He kept his head down like a good slave, climbing up only after Sherlock and then waiting for his signal to have the horses begin to move. There were stares as they went through town, of course, but John paid them no attention at all. Soon enough they were out of the town and back on the road, and John was beginning to hum again.

“To be fair, I am rather pretentious.” Sherlock commented belatedly after they had already started traveling and was finally up front with John. “Do you always hum when driving? Not a complaint...just an observation. I suppose it helps pass the time for you.” He gave John a smile and opened his book, to keep reading from where he had left off. The pages would get a bit dusty, but it didn't bother him too much. He could deal with some dirt. As long as he could he still read the words, that was all the really mattered. “Let me know when we get close to the town,” he said without looking up from the pages.

"Understatement of the year, Sir." John told him, elbowing him gently. "I do. I hum and I sing and I even talk to the horses. Tell them about the places 'round here I've been and why they kicked me out. I don't think Bucky and Tiller are too interested though." John shrugged. He nodded although he knew his Master wasn't looking. He continued to hum and speak to the horses as though Sherlock was not on the top with him, telling them of some of the fights he'd gotten into, and more ways he had been left for either market or trash. It amused him a bit, now, but back then it had pissed him off to no end. It was about five hours before they came upon the next town, and when they did John elbowed Sherlock gently again. "We're getting close, Sir."

Sherlock read but was listening to John hum and talk to the horses as well. It was comforting in a way, the constancy of his slave's voice. When he was told they were getting near, he closed his book. “You do know that isn't their names, right?” He gave a small smirk. “But you can call them that if you want, I'm sure they don't know the difference anyway.” He glanced around their surroundings, so they could take in the scenery so they would be able to escape with speed and precision. “You don't sing badly by the way. I enjoyed listening to you while I read.”

John looked at his Master, and shrugged. "You never told me what their names were, and they aren't on their breast collars, so I took liberties to name them myself." He had yet to come up with a name for his horse they had left. He looked at the town approach and felt himself blush again, then cursed himself. He shouldn't be blushing so much from compliments! It was pathetic, really! "Thank you, Sir. I'm glad you found it acceptable." He grinned and then ducked his head, straightening his face as the horses took them into town.

Sherlock shrugged as well. “Boaz, which is Hebrew for swiftness and Borak, which is Arabic for lightening.” He pointed to the one on the left first and then the right. “They were bred for speed and two the most well-behaved horses our manor has to offer. It was why I picked them for this trip.” He grinned at the blush, it amused him could make his slave do it so often. “Why John, has anyone ever told you how adorable you look when you get all shy like that?” Now he was just baiting his slave and seeing if he could get John even more flustered than he already was.

"Boaz and Borak...? So, because you decided to go by a unique name everything else you owned had to as well?" John asked quietly, guiding the two carefully around people and other horses. "I'm still going to call them Bucky and Tiller. Because Bucky is a buckskin and he tried to kick me, thanks to you, when I took him off of the cart after your stunt a few days ago. And Tiller because he steers Bucky pretty well." John was curious as to where he would be going. He twitched his head just enough to glare at the man and then dipped it again. His face went to a deeper red. "Shut up Sir. And no. Nobody has ever told me I’m adorable when I turn red." He lifted his head. "Are we passing through here or looking for your brother's slave?"

“I like their names,” Sherlock muttered with a slight pout. “But I suppose I will allow you to call them whatever you want.” He gave a faint smirk but then it got bigger as he watched his slave's reaction at being told he was adorable. It was exactly what he was looking for. “You are only proving my point further John and you are lucky I like you, I don't let just anyone get away telling me to shut up. Sometimes I think you just enjoy tempting me with cutting your tongue out.” Another smirk but it faded as he glanced around. Right. They were supposed to be looking for...George? so they could have the carriage taken and have the horses for a swift escape. “There he is, over there.” He pointed to a man with silver hair.

"Their names are fine, I like them as well, but the ones I call them are just simpler." John knocked their knees together a couple times gently. "Sometimes I think I like the threat of having my tongue cut out as well. I've gotten used to threats being normal, and be ones you give always make me feel special." John joked under his breath, driving the horses to the other man. He stopped them a ways before and jumped down to let Sherlock down. He nodded a greeting instead of saying anything, looking out for the other people. Mycroft's man had chosen a semi-secluded place so there were less people to look at them.

“If you say so,” Sherlock muttered but made no further comments about the horse’s names. He raised his eyebrows when their knees touched but like before didn't say anything about it. He hopped off and gave a brief greeting to Gage. He ignored the man muttering his name was 'Greg' or perhaps simply just didn't hear. “John, load up a few bags for us. Just essential supplies to last a few days. Oh, and my books. Perhaps leave us a few guns as well, now that I think about it. Whatever your name is, unhitch the horses and put on the new ones. You may leave us once we have our packs and horses saddled.”

John nodded to the man--Greg. His name was Greg. John laughed under his breath at the look Greg gave Sherlock. It was the one of exasperation once you've known someone for a while and known how far you could push them. He helped Greg unhitch the horses and then went behind to the luggage to pack it tighter. Where there had been about eight there were now three. Two for his horse and one for his Master's, though he could fit all three on his own if he was careful... "Thanks," John murmured to Greg as they passed again. Greg hooked up his two horses while John went to load their bags onto one of the horses.

Greg looked back at him and nodded. "Thanks for not leaving him." The other slave murmured, so Sherlock couldn't hear.

John nodded and walked over to Master when he was done. "Your books are packed, as are mine. Everything we need is packed including a med kit."

Sherlock waited for the slaves to finish their tasks before he walked up to his brother's slave. “Tell Mycroft not to worry. I swear, he is worse than a mother hen.” He gave the slave a slight smirk and a knowing one was given back. “See you in a few days Gilbert.” The silver haired man rolled his eyes but he missed because he had already turned his back and walked over to his horse. He pet the side of the face before he mounted it. “All right John, let's go. Show me our rendezvous point.” He avoided mentioning the quarry by name just in case someone had happened by and might hear. He began following his slave, once the other started moving.

John had mounted Borak, the one who seemed the steadier of the two, and nodded to his Master. "Yes, keep close Sir." He led Sherlock out of the town. Once the path turned, cutting them off from sight, John led them into the forest. It took an hour for them to get deep enough for the rocks to first begin appearing. "We're fairly close now Sir. It's only an hour and half from here." He turned in his saddle to send the other a brief grin. As a child, the quarry had seemed so close but so far away. And now it seemed the quarry, and his father, were too close for comfort. He was beginning to get a bit nervous, his left hand shaking a bit. "Can you say something either intelligent or insulting Sir? I'm starting to get nervous, you're being quiet."

Sherlock followed after John, trusting Boaz to do most of the navigation for him really. He was looking around, observant gaze taking in everything they could and trying to commit as much of it to his memory. He was good with maps and directions and he had studied the map a lot before leaving the manor. “Can I? Certainly. Will I? Oh, I don't know. I suppose so.” That really wasn't all that clever but he was busy trying to take in their surroundings. He finally looked ahead to catch John looking back and he smirked. “Don't get nervous, can't have you losing the stomach to go through with it when I've gone through all this trouble to bring you here. I did almost die three times on this trip, I will not be pleased if you decide to back out now. So, man up and get ready.”

"I won't chicken out Sir, no worries for that. Just being here and so close..." He chuckled a little and turned back forward, slowing his horse some to let his Master get closer. John didn't want to lose him right now. "I'll make sure that your near-death experiences weren't for nothing." He looked around for a couple landmarks and once he found them he knew where he was going. "It’s just...twelve years since I last saw him Sir. So much has changed and…I don't know. I'm nervous but I want to do this. I'm glad I'll have a couple hours to wrap my head around that, though. Don't want to get stupid and fuck up Sir."

Sherlock nodded and drew up Boaz to walk alongside Borak. “You begged me to let you live, just so you could do it. I would be disappointed if you suddenly lost the resolve and conviction to do so. Just think how long you have waited to get this chance and use that to motivate you. I wasn't there, but I imagine your sister screamed, perhaps begged him not to. Think of that, fuel your anger. It is a great motivator. I know it may sound cliché, but half the battle is believing you will succeed. If you think you will fail, then you already have.” He wasn't sure if anything he was saying was useful, there was a reason he wasn't a motivational speaker.

John had to drop his reins because Sherlock was right. Harry had screamed, screamed her lungs raw and bloody, and nobody had listened. Nobody except John who could do nothing but pound on the door and beg for his father to stop this insanity, to get away from her, all for nothing. He let the horse walk forward, trying to steer with his legs, and clenched his hands a few times. "Yeah. You're right, Sir, completely." He closed his eyes. He couldn't believe that it helped, but it did. He was now fighting the urge to kick the horse's sides, and just go after his father. No, a few hours and then that would be it. "Thank you. I was half beginning to believe this was just a dream." He was glad to see the rocks getting thicker the closer they came to the quarry. John altered their course a bit, towards where there would be more grass for the horses.

Sherlock watched John carefully. Well, something he had said had worked. Likely the bit about his sister screaming, if he read the body language right. He merely nodded his head at the thanks, a rare moment of modesty from him. He was quiet a moment as he looked around some more. “Did you bring a knife with you to kill your father? Or just going to grab one at the house? Or perhaps you have changed your mind on how you are going to kill him? If you stab him in the liver, he will die slowly and painfully. When you remove the blade, the blood will look black and be thick if you hit the right spot. It will take about eight to ten minutes for him to bleed out and he will feel all of it as he gradually fades. I recommend shoving something in his mouth so he doesn't scream or talk much and wake the whole house.”

"Hmm, no, I didn't bring anything. But if nothing has moved in the last twelve years, which I believe is the case as he was always the laziest bastard to grace the land, worse than you even, he will have had nothing moved...I can get a knife from the kitchen. Where would the spot in the liver be, exactly?" He rather liked the idea of his father bleeding out slowly. For all the lives John had saved or help save, he would happily watch the light fade from his father's eyes. "I'll use objects from the house, so that one of the other slaves may be blamed. Hopefully I won't be spotted, and if I am they'll either keep quiet or won't be believed." He figured that he could use one of his father's own socks to keep him quiet.

“Luckily, the liver is the biggest gland in the body. It is just to the right and above of the stomach. Just below the lungs. Near the heart.” One of his hands let go of the reigns and pointed to just below his pectorals. “The reason it is such a slow death, is because the liver is what detoxifies the blood and basically he is slowly poisoned to death as the blood that begins to circulate is no longer purified.” Okay, so maybe now he was just showing off how smart he was but he was a show off after all, it was what people like him did.

John nodded, staring at where his Master's finger was. He picked up the reins and moved Borak a bit closer to the other, hesitating and then putting his finger where his Master's was. He removed his hand and then gripped it as though he was holding a knife, then did it again, and nodded. "You truly are the best Master, Sir, though I am a bit confused as to how you know this. Committed many murders, Sir?' He moved the horse away again and chuckled to himself. He was imagining his father's height and where he would have to get him to do it correctly.

Sherlock shrugged at the question. “No, it is just basic anatomy and how the human body works. It is good to know if you want to torture someone and keep them alive for a long time. Sometimes I get bored with whippings and find new ways to punish slaves and I experiment with this and that. What works best, what doesn't.” He shrugged again, wondering if John realized just how much of sociopath he was at times. High functioning grant it, but still a sociopath nonetheless. He had no disillusions about who he was and how few morals he really had, if any at all.

John wasn't too bothered by the admission of his Master. He had seen how he was with people who touched what was his, and could only imagine how he treated people who were not truly considered people. "Now you're making it sound like more fun the next time I get in trouble." John thought about maybe finding some anatomy textbooks the next time they went back through the towns, and reading up on some things. "How many slaves have upset you so badly you saw fit to torture them so much? What did they do, if you don't mind me asking Sir?"

Sherlock smirked a little. “I'll keep in mind that you are a masochistic then.” He was silent for moment before answering the question. “I actually have slaves for the sole purpose of experimentation. Although those lot never go through anything life threatening. I save the torture for those have done something I don't intend to let them live after doing it, though I want to make sure they suffer before they die. I once had a slave steal a horse and try to run away. They didn't get far away fastest enough.” A shrug. “I once had a slave try and poison my food. It left me very ill but didn't kill me. When I found out who it was, I was less than pleasant with them. I made their torture last almost a week.”

"Just a bit, Sir. The pain makes me feel alive, in a way." John shrugged, listening openly. Despite hearing the admission from his Master that he did keep slaves solely for torture he did not feel any less at ease with him. He was still more comfortable with his Master than anybody else. "Mmm...Which horse? I'm rather curious as to how far I could get away on the same beast..." John tipped his head back a little. "Not that I would actually leave you, Sir, but it would be a bit of a fun...experiment, don't you think?" John grit his teeth at the thought of Sherlock being poisoned. He had risked a life without his Master, without his revenge on his father, and that upset John. "What's the longest session you've ever had for torture?" John asked, changing their direction a little bit again.

“It explains why you are still at my side then.” Sherlock raised his eyebrows at John's suggestion. “Interestingly enough, Calamity. A restless mare, never fully broken. Except for me, and no not through abuse if you are wondering.” He gave a proud grin but kept going. “Not a smart choice if you are going to try and run but only an idiot would try to run in my opinion. I would prefer if you wouldn't. I don't plan on using you for experiments. You are much more useful in other ways, I'd rather not maim you permanently. The one who poisoned me. I get bored after a while, and usually will purposefully end it after two or three days. I made a special exception for them.” He gave a wicked smile. "If you are talking about the ones I use for experiment purposes, some of them have been used for that for years. I take volunteers, you aren't the only masochist in my employ."

John laughed out loud, and then put his hand over his mouth to quiet himself. It did partially explain why he was still by his Master's side, beside the loyalty he already felt for the man. "Why was she never completely broken? Too much work, or not worth the effort?" He questioned, and then laughed again. "Sir, you have already maimed me permanently. I will forever have scars from the whipping you gave me." And there was the chance he'd look over them fondly. He looked over at his Master, and swallowed before looking away. "Do you use them only for torture or for pleasure as well, Sir?" He asked as though it didn't quite matter to him. He was, though, interested in everything his Master did. He put his hand on Borak's mane for a moment, rubbing it down, and then looking ahead of them. He was surprised to see the quarry rising up in front of them already.

“Mmm, no. She just doesn't like being ridden. I got her for a good, low price because of that. Just because I don't like riding horses in particular, doesn't mean I'm not good at it. She will let me with no saddle and if in a good mood. I usually have to bribe her with treats. She is usually well behaved or well enough and really that is all that matters to me. Although it is good fun to make bets with people and watch them try and ride her.” Sherlock smirked a little and then shrugged. “At the time I maimed you, I had no plans or use for you.” He shook his head at the question even though John had looked away. “No, and not all the experiments involve torture. I do it for scientific purposes, not any real pleasure out of it.”

John nodded. He had seen horses like the way she sounded. Proud and against a rider. Yet one was always forced onto their back until their heads hung low and they walked with no spirit. He would have to look for her when they got back to see what she looked like. "And how often do you do that?" He asked, feeling a bit glad to hear that Sherlock did not take pleasure from the experiments. "And now I am to be your personal slave, yes?" He asked, navigating them through the quarry until they reached an overhang that would both shield and hide them and the horses. He stopped Borak and looked around. The grass for the horses led just a few feet away from where they'd stay. "I apologize for not leading you to an inn, but it should be for one night only."

“Not as often as I would like,” Sherlock admitted. “The family business keeps me busy. It has been involved in the slave trade since before my father was born. It is a most lucrative business as long as you know what you are doing.” He sighed at the thought of all the work that came with it though. He found most of it to be incredibly boring. This trip with John had been the most fun he'd had in ages. “I didn't expect to stay at an inn tonight.” He gave his slave a faint smirk. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small watch and flipped it open to check the time.

"Maybe we could travel more..." John trailed off, and then shook his head. He shouldn't be giving his Master of all people ideas. He was a cavern to shout into, an echo. But he couldn't stop imagining the adventures they could have, just the pair of them. John could only hope they would not be stuck in the mansion for too long when they returned. He smiled back at his Master, a small once, and hopped off his horse to began unloading their supplies. "Should we tie the horses up in here or out closer to the grass?" He asked, looking at the sun setting in the sky.

Sherlock got off the horse after he put his watch back in his pocket. “Perhaps we can. My brother does most of the traveling for business. As much as it would annoy me, it would make his day if I finally started sharing some of that load. Imagine all the trouble we could get into, if this trip is any indicator of how things would go.” He gave John a grin. “We can let them stay by the grass but when you leave, it would probably be best to tie them up in here. They won't like it but they are well behaved enough they won't make a noisy fuss.”

John couldn't help the startled laugh that bubbled out of him again. He and his Master seemed to share a similar thought process, at least in this way. "Imagine all the trouble we could get into elsewhere, where people don't know who we are." John set out a sleeping bag for his Master. "I'll take Borak with me so I have a way to get there and return quickly. But I'll leave him well inside the tree line. I'd hate for such a fine beast to be spotted." He gently grabbed the horse's face and pressed a ridiculous kiss to its nose. For his part, the horse just snorted and began to nip at the grass for food. John grinned, now excited to be here, no longer nervous.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at the laughter but couldn't help but grin once more. “I'm sure we could find all manner of trouble if we wanted to.” He nodded at his slave's idea to use the horse. “That is fine.” He laid down on the bed roll John had put down, but he knew he wouldn't be sleeping at all while he waited. It would provide warmth against the chilled night air though. He wouldn't risk making a fire. That would just be a stupid move. He decided to go ahead and slide inside, so he wouldn't have to do it later. “I am glad we agreed to this arrangement. It is worth it I think, despite some of the mishaps we have had along the way.”

"I'm fairly certain we do both want to find some trouble, Sir." John leaned against the wall. He finally sat down a short distance from his Master, giving himself an hour before he'd leave. He was glad to have Borak or he'd never make it within five hours. It was a bit calming to him to see his Master so at ease in a place so strange to him, trusting John not to get them killed. It had been a long time since someone had trusted him in that way, and he was determined not to fail his Master. "I'm glad we agreed to it as well Sir. This is the most fun I have had in a decade." John spoke quietly, looking outside the cave.

“Yes, I suppose you are right.” Sherlock wanted that thrilling rush again, back when they had been ambushed. His hands were behind his head and he stared up at the darkness. “Same, although maybe not that long for me. I used to get into all sorts of trouble when my parents were alive, but when they both passed I 'needed to grow up' as my brother put it. Mycroft had already moved out the manner before that and it was either sell all the property or take over the family business on my end. I suppose it was sentiment that kept me from doing that, still keeps me.”

John nodded although his Master was not looking at him. He had enjoyed the adrenaline rush the chase had given him, and the looks and worse his Master had as well. He felt, for the first time since before he had been sold, as though he did _belong_ , in more than just terms of money and ownership. It felt right to be with Sherlock, arguing and joking and calling him a lazy arse and getting away with it but only just barely. He didn't want to let it go now. "I used to play with Harry a lot. But I was supposed to run the business, or enter the government or army, when I got older. But then father decided that our life was too planned and boring." John shrugged. "Only sentiment for my sister has me back here."

Sherlock listened quietly, not really able to relate to John at all. He and Mycroft had never really played as children, except maybe when he was very young. He'd had the ridiculous idea to be a pirate and live life on the high seas. For the most part, they had been serious children. They grew up with slaves and having slaves. Learned the family business to take it over when the time came. He gave a small sigh at his thoughts, wishing responsibility hadn't been thrust upon him so suddenly a few years ago. He hadn’t told John what happened to them but it wasn't something he went around doing to begin with. Even though he liked and trusted his slave, he wasn't sure it was something he would ever talk about. He and his brother were both working on it on the side and they were confident they were closing in.

John closed his eyes when Sherlock didn't respond. He napped lightly while he could, waking an hour later as he had planned. His Master was quiet and John stood, walking over to where the horses were napping as well. "Master," he said quietly, not sure if Sherlock was awake or not, "I'll be back before dawn." With that he remounted Borak and headed off. He moved quickly, though he kept to a trot until he was out of the quarry. Taking in his surrounds he swung Borak towards his father's house and dug hid heels into the horse's sides, the beast setting off at a gallop. It took about an hour of galloping and the occasional walk for John to reach the house. As he had told his Master he tied the horse well inside the tree line and then set off on foot for the house, careful not to attract attention.

Sherlock wasn't sleeping, just thinking. He gave the faintest nod of his head. Now all he had to do was wait. He wasn't a patient man, so waiting made him annoyed and bored. He wished he could read or even play solitaire at this point, but it was too dark and he wasn't stupid enough to try and use any light source. Maybe if he napped, that would help. No. He couldn't do that either. He needed to stay awake in case someone happened by and he needed to hide or possibly kill someone if found out. He wasn't going to risk being found out at all, and he would do what he needed to. He sighed quietly to himself and got up off the bed roll and moved over to Boaz, and began speaking quietly to the horse.


	7. Chapter 7

John got into the house quickly. His father was so high on power he doubted anybody would hurt him. John first visited the kitchen, grabbing a knife and then headed up the stairs. First, he checked his sister's room and found what he had feared, a connected room that, when he checked, led to a preteen's room. John bit back a growl and exited just as silently as he had entered. He quickly found his father's room, and entered silently there as well. The drawer of his father's clothes made little noises but John didn't concern himself with them, not yet. He grabbed a sock and walked over to his father. He was snoring away, sprawled out perfectly. Not one to pass up the opportunity presented to him, John stuffed the sock in his open mouth and thrust down with the knife. His father woke up thrashing but choked on the sock, eyes narrowing and then widening when he recognized his attacker.

John let the knife slide out and he grinned. "Hello father. It's been a while. I see my sister gave birth to your grandchild, you sick bastard." He couldn't help but stab him again, twisting the knife. His father cried out, some sound escaping the makeshift gag. It didn't take longer than five minutes for John to watch him bleed out. He exited the room, leaving behind the items he had used for the murder, and turned to see a female slave staring at him with wide eyes. He had raised his hand to quiet her but set her off screaming instead when she saw the blood, and John shot past her.

In no time at all the house was a flurry of activity, people rushing and moving. John grabbed a jacket to blend in with once he was outside, but somebody spotted him and the blood. He didn't turn around to see who, but when he heard shots he left with the jacket in his arms and bolted for the trees. He barely recognized the pain in his shoulder until he was giving himself a breather. He turned to look at it, watching the blood drip from the wound for just a moment before shrugging on the jacket and untying Borak, leaping onto his back and taking him in the direction opposite of the hiding place. It took him three hours to return to his Master, and when he did he was pale though it was difficult to tell in the darkness.

"It's done, Sir, though I suggest we leave immediately." John gasped after speaking, having stopped Borak just behind Boaz. The horse was sweaty and shaking, exhausted from their flight, and John was leaning heavily on his neck.

Sherlock was certain he heard distant gun shots, but it was difficult to tell from where since he was in a quarry and things had a way of echoing. He was not one to believe in coincidences, so he began gathering their things up and mounted Boaz, expecting John to show up soon. Something was wrong with his slave, he could tell by the way John leaned on the horse but they needed to get the hell out of town. Apparently, his slave hadn't been able to get away clean. “Come on then.” He spurred his horse forward, having mapped the area out in his head when they had passed and was confident in his ability to navigate and lead them out.

John had Borak following Boaz, not leading him at all. He wasn't feeling well. He was lightheaded and his shoulder hurt more than anything he'd ever had before. The horses were moving fast though, and John didn't give too much thought to the pain. Not until he couldn't ignore it anymore and he slumped over onto Borak completely, and then, unable to hold his balance, he fell off. He cried out when he landed on his shoulder, trying to curl up around the pain, but he could barely move. 'He's going to leave me,' John thought in fear, 'he's going to leave me here like he said.' But he couldn't summon up any more strength, and he could only watch and wait to see what his Master would do as his eyes began to shut.

Sherlock pulled Boaz to a stop when he heard John cry out. Damn it. He should just leave. Get the hell out now while he still could. His slave could have left him for dead on three separate occasions but hadn't. He growled at himself in frustration, berating himself for letting himself get attached to something like a stupid slave. He turned the horse back, giving a small whistle to make Borak come back over to them. He jumped off the horse and groaned at the dead weight John was now basically. He was tall and wiry, but not at full strength. Luckily, his slave wasn't a hundred percent health either and he managed to lift the other up onto the horse, laying his slave on his stomach across the saddle.

“God damn it John,” he swore and began tying his slave to Borak's saddle in a quick but tight knot. There. Now John wouldn't fall off. He had learned to tie knots when he'd gone through his pirate phase as a child. He climbed back on Boaz, took Borak's reigns and began going again. They couldn't run like before but he did manage a decent trot. “I swear to God, if you die John your Master will be very upset with you.” He didn't want to go too far, leaving that shoulder alone but they still needed to put some distance between the town. He stopped when he felt they would be safe, in the middle of some forest that had a clearing. He had stayed away from any roads at all. He undid the knot and slid John from the saddle as gently as he could and then laid the slave on the ground so he could inspect the wound.

John tried to help but he was more of a hindrance when he did so he let Sherlock move him without fighting. "I'm sorry Sir. I'm sorry, they got me, I thought I was clean away, I'm sorry." He tried to convince himself to be quiet but he couldn't until he passed out. He woke again when Sherlock put him back on the ground, gasping and whining for a moment. It took far too long for his eyes to refocus. "Sher-Sir, I'm sorry...I didn't mean...I thought they had missed...thought it was...shrapnel..." He moaned, closing his eyes against the pain. He didn't want to die. He had something to live for, now. He had Sherlock, his Master. He was going to keep him safe. He had to stay alive to keep Sherlock safe, and to get back to his horse. He laughed, unable to stop himself. "Matching set. We're a matching set now..." He took in a deep, ragged breath and tried to concentrate on his Master, even though the world was spinning all around his face.

Sherlock gave a tight smirk. “John just shut up and save your strength. Also, I just don't want to hear you bitching.” Another smirk, though a bit fuller this time. “I need to take your shirt off to get a better look at your shoulder. I assume you were shot in the back, if you didn't realize it right away. That means it was clean through and through. Good, I wouldn’t be able to do anything for you if the bullet was still lodged inside you somewhere.” He started taking the shirt off, hoping John wouldn't have some sort of flashback and fight against him when he was trying to help.

"Yes Sir. Sorry Sir." His words slurred, before he closed his mouth. He didn't fight the movements, even when they pulled at the wound. He could hardly feel his arm now, and when he turned his head to look at the wound it seemed like his arm was completely gone and he frowned. "They didn't blow the whole thing off did they?" He asked, beginning to shake slightly. He looked up at Sherlock, and smiled tiredly. "I got him. He's dead. I'm not following him though..." John sighed out a breath. "Can I sleep Sir? I'm really tired."

Sherlock took the shirt off, as smoothly as he could. He needed to find a way to stop the bleeding. “No, you can't sleep yet. Just a little longer.” He hesitated. “I've never said this before, but I apologize in advance for doing this.” He stuck his thumb into the wound, knowing it would make John scream in pain but it would keep his slave awake for the time being. He was worried if John passed out now, he might not wake up again. “I'll be right back.”

He began digging around in the luggage to find the medical kit and other supplies. “I need to cauterize the wound on both sides, it will help to prevent infection and close it at the same time. It is going to hurt worse than when I stuck my thumb in there. Then I will put bandages over it, to keep the area cleaned. You will be allowed to sleep when I am done” Sherlock made a fire, and stuck the tip of a blade in it until it glowed red. “This is going to hurt,” he repeated and touched the burning hot tip to the exit wound on the front of the shoulder, the skin sizzled and smoked but it needed to be done. He was working with what he had. It could be stitched like it needed later when he actually had the supplies to do so. There was no hard liquor to give John either, to help vaguely dull the pain. 

The confusion in his brain cleared some when Sherlock apologized. He narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to ask him why he was apologizing, but then the thumb was inside of his shoulder and _digging_ and John screamed. There was the salt of Sherlock's sweat as well, and he began to sob at how much it hurt. John looked after Sherlock's retreating form, worried for just a moment that he was being left. But then he was back and there was the smell of something burning and John just barely had the time to comprehend what Sherlock had said and what was happening to his shoulder before the hot knife was pressing on to his skin. He could only scream so long, and when he couldn't he whimpered quietly. He blacked out from the pain for a number of seconds before coming to when he felt himself being shifted for Sherlock to reach his back. He panted and shook but did not fight the action, knowing that if he did he would almost certainly die.

Sherlock was used to hearing and making slaves scream, so he kept working despite the obvious pain John was in. It was for the man's own good anyway. “Just stay with me a little longer John,” he murmured as he rolled his slave over and cauterized the entry wound. He sighed, grabbed a large adhesive bandage and applied to it the back before setting John back down gently. He had made sure the med kit was within in arms reach for that sole reason, he didn't want dirt or anything else getting in the wound. He covered the front of the shoulder next and then sat down next to his slave. He hadn't slept at all and then riding for God knew how long he was exhausted. He kicked dirt onto the fire lazily until it went out and he ended up curling into John's good side a bit. “Sleep now,” he muttered as his own eyes closed.

John couldn't speak by the time Sherlock was finished. His throat hurt and he was exhausted with the effort of staying awake for him. He watched with half open eyes as Sherlock kicked the fire out, and then relished the warmth when he laid next to John. The tired slave closed his eyes and turned his head achingly toward his Master. He was quiet now, especially, but he opened and closed his mouth a couple times. "I...after...all of this...Master...I trust you...with my life...completely." He sighed, and then let the black fuzz around the edges of his eyes take him over and fell asleep.

Sherlock had heard the words right before he slept, a small smile on his lips. He had been far too tired to get bed rolls or a blanket for them and he had ended up curling into John even more, and seeking heat from his slave while he slept. He slept until the sun peeked through trees, filtering through the branches and onto his face. He groaned but woke up slowly, to find his nose buried into John's side and an arm draped over the slave's stomach. He blinked a little at that and then pulled away, as he sat up languidly. “John?” He muttered, wondering if his slave had made it through the night or not. If so, then John should be able to pull through just fine.

John woke up a number of times during the night. From the pain as well as the strangeness of his Master by his side. He fell into a more peaceful sleep around sunrise, and woke only when he heard his name. The first thing that came to his mind was the throbbing ache of his shoulder. The next was the extra warmth from where his Master had laid by his side the rest of the night. He blinked as he woke up, tilting his head to better see his Master. He tried to speak but couldn't, so he opened and shut his mouth and then began to swallow all of the spit he could. When his throat and mouth were wet enough to speak he nodded at the man sitting up. "I survived, Sir. Thank you." Although he didn't try to get up yet. He didn't admit he had been afraid Sherlock would leave him because he was irrationally afraid that his Master still would. He had paid nothing for John, yet the slave couldn't help but hope that his Master appreciated him and liked him enough to keep him around. "That was very quick-thinking Sir. I don't think I would have been able to do the same."

Sherlock smiled when he saw John stirring but shrugged off the thanks. “Of course, it was. I'm a genius, it is I do.” He smirked a bit. “So much for not camping out under the stars. Rest a bit longer, but we should go soon. Just because we weren't found yet doesn't mean they still can't. I'd rather not risk it. We will ride to the town we stayed in before. It can't be more than three hours riding time from us now. We will get you to a real doctor who can stitch the wounds closed properly. I suppose I will have to be bothered getting things together for the trip and making a quick breakfast. You just got shot so I guess you can have the day off.” He gave John a grin, stood, stretched and moved over to the horses.

John worked up the energy to smile at his Master gratefully. "You're correct Sir. I probably should have returned to you sooner but I rode the other direction to try and send them off the trail. I believe that it bought us some time but we may have already spent it sleeping." John finally managed to pull himself up into a sitting position. He hissed but didn't show any other indicators of pain. "I'm sorry to have gotten myself so injured you must do my job Sir." It was a real apology. Getting shot had not been part of his plan. When he had fallen off of Borak he had been sure Sherlock would remain true to his word and leave him, but he had returned and taken care of him instead. "I'll try to come back to full health as soon as possible." Even if it meant he was working before he was completely healed. He moved his legs so that he was kneeling and then pulled one up, working himself slowly into standing. His legs shook and he was still pale, but he was alive and awake.

Sherlock turned back to see John up standing and he let out a scowl. “You sit back down this instance. You are my obedient slave now, and injured or not you still have to listen to what I say. You know how I feel about slaves who don't listen to orders. Do not make me regret coming back for you John.” That had probably been harsher than necessary but it should do the trick to make the idiot rest. Honestly, he hadn't been that bad when injured and sick...had he? He wasn't sure since most of it was all still just a blurry memory. He walked back over with some dried, cured beef strips and trail mix made up of mostly nuts and raisins. “Not much but you need food to keep your strength up.” He offered John water first though.

John winced at the words, but nodded. It was more the tone of them then the actual words but he understood. He carefully lowered himself back to the ground, hoping that he would be able to stand again when he needed to, and looked up at his Master. "Thank you, Sir. You have some for yourself, right? I'm certain I packed enough for both of us for a number of days." John told him, taking the water and drinking it slowly. He knew that if he wasn't careful he might just vomit everything back up. He took the food Sherlock had brought him and put it in his lap, eating it one piece at a time despite how ravenous he was feeling. "And you're alright? The horses are okay too?" He asked, wanting to be sure he hadn't failed his Master.

“Yes, I will eat too. You worry about yourself and getting better.” Sherlock walked back over to the horses. “They are fine John. They were tired from last night but got rest just like we did and will be ready for us to ride them when the time comes.” He went through his slave's things on Borak and found a new shirt for John to wear. “Here.” He offered it to him after walking back over to his slave. “I am going to have you ride Boaz with me, can't have you falling off the horse again. If you pass out for whatever reason, you will be tied to me.”

"As you wish Sir." John was chewing the nuts and saving the jerky for last. He was glad to hear that neither of them had been harmed during the night. They were good horses and John would hate to see them injured because of him. He nodded at Sherlock's words, eyeing the horse who had tried to kick him during the beginning of their journey. "Will I be in front of you or behind you?" He asked, curious. He knew there was a fairly good chance of him passing out again once he could focus on nothing but the pain in his shoulder, which he was doing well of ignoring for the time being.

Sherlock frowned a little and then dropped the shirt next to John when his slave didn't take it. He went and got himself some food from the saddle bags and water as well, sitting down by John. “Behind me, I need to see where I am going John.” He turned and gave his slave a slight smirk. “You won't have to worry about the knots coming undone. I am rather good at making them.” He left out the part he had learned to do them because of his pirate obsession early on in life. John would probably just laugh at him, everyone else did.

John took the shirt, having looked right past it when it was handed to him, and slowly put it on. It went over the bandages well, and didn't tug on them at all. That was a relief, as he didn't think that he would be able to take too much jostling of it before getting on Boaz. "I am shorter than you Sir, I probably wouldn't block you too much if I sat in front of you." He gave a one-shoulder shrug. He began to chew on the beef and nodded. "I noticed partially last night. Your knots are far better than mine, I would have likely slipped under Borak if it was my knot work."

“Well, maybe I just like the idea of you tied up behind me.” Sherlock gave his own shrug but he smirked at his slave. “It was a phase,” he muttered more to himself than to John about his ability to make knots so well. He didn't eat much, just enough to give him enough strength to get through to the next town. He stood and offered his hand to his slave's good one. “Come on, we should get going.” He whistled and both horses came when he called. They were indeed well-trained animals. “I'll help you up and then climb up after you.”

John couldn't help but grin at his Master. "Maybe you just like the idea of me being tied up." He was clearly teasing. He finished eating and took a couple more drinks of water and then raised his arm. He half pulled himself up with his Master's help, looking at the two horses coming over to them. He put his hand on Borak's nose, thanking him quietly, and then walked over to Boaz. "Alright Sir. I think I'm ready." He tried to smile but it turned into more of a grimace. This would not be fun for him.

Sherlock helped John up onto the horse. He grabbed some rope, wrapped some around his slave's waist and then climbed up in front. “Put your arms around me on my stomach. Lean forward if you need to, so it won't be too much strain on your shoulder. Lock your fingers together as well.” When John had complied, he tied the rope around his slave's wrists and made sure the knot was secure by pulling on it before dropping it. He grabbed the reigns to Borak and then urged Boaz forward so they could begin traveling again.

John did as he was told, leaning on his Master and wrapping his fingers together so his wrists could be tied. When they set off, John was fine for a while. He rested his head on his Master's back and tried to sleep. Despite the rocking motion of both the man in front of him as well as the horse he could not. Within the first hour, though, John was unconscious again. He had whimpered as quietly as he could for about ten minutes before the pain in his shoulder forced him to go to black once more. He remained out for a good while, waking every now and then for about ten minutes and allowing himself to sink under to make the trip less pain fuel for him. Each time he apologized to Sherlock before winning into unconsciousness.

Sherlock found himself talking to the horses like John had. He couldn't hum, let alone sing. He could dance though. A guilty pleasure of his. And play the violin. But he couldn't exactly do either of those at the moment to help keep him distracted. Anytime he heard John apologize he would simply pat his slave reassuringly on the hand. He kept going, telling the horses all about ash even though they couldn't understand a word he said. It had taken a little longer to reach the town than he thought, but he let the horse’s just walk along at a leisurely pace. It would be good for them and John. He went to the inn they had stayed at here before but wasn't going to get them separate rooms like last time. He needed to make sure his slave didn't do stupid things when he wasn't around. “John, we are here.” He undid the ropes but he held onto his slave's hands to keep John in place just in case.

The slave woke up again as they entered town, and what a sight they must have been. He was slumped against his Master's back, sharing a horse though they had two, and he looked no better than the undead that children were told of to keep them indoors at night. He grumbled a bit at his Master when he told John that they had arrived, trying to sit up but becoming light headed when he did. Blood loss from before was still affecting him, it seemed. "I suppose you're getting off first Sir?" He asked, though it was obvious he wouldn't be able to remain standing too long without the other's help. He took a deep breath and removed his hands from his Master's to put them on the back of the saddle and weakly hold himself up. "Best be quick, Sir, or I'll dismount before you."

Sherlock smirked even though John couldn't see him. He ignored some of the stares they got. He got off Boaz and then helped his slave down. He paid for the horses to be taken care of and even someone to take their luggage inside. He paid for a room and took them upstairs, and tipped the boy who had carried the luggage. “Lay down and rest,” he commanded as he set John down on the bed gently. He could tell his slave was still pretty weak, probably from the blood loss the night before.

John leaned heavily on Sherlock to their room, holding his arm tightly as they moved up the stairs. When Sherlock set him down in the bed John opened his eyes and blinked at him. "I thought that was my line Sir." The words were murmured, thinking back to when Sherlock had been fevered and John took care of him. He figured that his Master was repaying him just with this for saving his life. John felt a brief flash of fear jump through him and he reached out with his right hand to grab Sherlock's wrist. "Sir, are you...going to get rid of me after this...?" He asked, looking up at his Master with wide, fearful eyes.

Sherlock blinked in clear surprise at the question. “What? Why would I do that? Don't be stupid. If I was just going to get rid of you I would have left your dumb arse back there to die and not wasted any time or effort on saving you. Try and stay awake a bit longer, I am going to get us some lunch...or maybe it is dinner now. I also want to change the bandages and clean the wound, just in case. See if it has re-opened or not. Now stay in bed, your Master commands it. I will be back soon.”

John couldn't stop the smile from appearing on his face and he dropped his Master's wrist. Three weeks ago, he would have run at the first chance to leave this man, and now he was afraid he would be left behind...it was a bit crazy and a little bit ridiculous. "Yes Sir. Sorry Sir. I'll do my best to stay awake." He felt like he had slept enough for a lifetime yet wanting to go back under. He didn't think he would be able to leave the bed anyway, and wondered--hoped a little, honestly--if they would be sharing it again tonight. He stayed on his back while Sherlock left to get food, staring at the ceiling and waiting for his Master to return.

Sherlock got a lot more stares when he left the room and went back downstairs to order food. He was certainly losing face and possibly hurt the family business. Mycroft was going to be pissed. Oh well. His brother would get over it. He was always doing something wrong according to Mycroft anyway. He sighed at his thoughts while he waited for the food and then took the trays back up to the room. “Sit up, carefully.” He walked over to the bed and set a tray down in John's lap carefully. “Looks like beef stew, a roll and some freshly squeezed milk from the cow they have in the back.” He smirked a little as he sat down on the floor and began eating with some vigor.

John breathed in deeply, sitting up slowly and carefully as his Master had ordered and enjoying the smell of a real meal. He ate slowly, making sure he kept it all down. He would hate to not be able to keep it in his stomach. The stew was delicious, especially since he had only had nuts and berries that morning, and the milk was surprisingly cold. He split the roll in half setting one part on the tray and nibbling on the other. He looked down at his Master's head and smiled again, leaning his own head back after a moment to chew his roll carefully. "Do you think they'll do an investigation or something, Sir? I'm fairly certain they won't be able to track me, but do you think they'll try?"

Sherlock shrugged. “Maybe, depends on whether or not anyone really liked your father. He sounded like quite the distasteful man to me. If anyone does inquire about your whereabouts, I'll lie and say you were with me. That the recent gunshot wound was from me. And that being around the time of his death was merely a coincidence. I am a powerful man with a good reputation. No one would dare call a Holmes a liar. My brother doesn't just help run the family business he is also a high-ranking government official. He would destroy anyone that would threaten the Holmes name.” He shrugged a bit and dunked the bread into the stew and ate it.

"I don't think so," John murmured as he nibbled on his some of his food. "He was a right bastard. Even worse than you when I back-talked you the first day. If a slave of his so much as looks at his chin he throws an absolute fit and refuses to feed them for a day." His father was much worse than the Holmes', so surely there wouldn't be an investigation. Although it was nice to hear that Sherlock would protect him should any accusations come to them. "Your brother sounds frightening, but he doesn't really look the part. And you said he's had Greg almost his entire life?" John asked curiously, looking down at his Master's head. His stomach was beginning to get a little upset and tight, so John put his food down.

Sherlock ate his stew quietly for a moment and washed it down with the milk before he spoke again. “I don't find my brother frightening in the least but I will say he is dangerous and it would be a mistake to underestimate him. Greg? Who is Greg?” He frowned in thought for a moment. “Oh. His slave Garrett. Yes, he was born into the Holmes household as a slave. When he was old enough, he was given to my brother as a birthday present. He is very devoted and loyal to Mycroft. He has been a slave all his life, it is all he has known. So, to him it is normal and he takes his duties to my brother seriously.”

"You grew up with him Sir, of course you don't find him frightening." John reminded him, listening closely to Greg's story and mentally face-palming himself because his Master couldn't remember the man's name. The man that he had apparently grown up with as well. "What does your brother use him for? Sorry for the questions, Sir, I'm just trying to pass the time some." He was also mentally preparing himself for other things to think about when Sherlock decided it was time to check out what was going on underneath his bandages.

Sherlock shrugged again. “Whatever he wants. Keeping his clothes looking dapper and ironed. Cleaning, cooking, running errands, basically doing anything and everything Mycroft doesn’t feel like doing himself. Perhaps pleasure. Although I'm not entirely sure my brother is interested in that kind of thing. Less than I am, if that is even possible.” He was done with his food and set the tray aside. He stood up. “All right, let me get a look at your wound.” Once John was sleeping, he was going to take a long hot bath. He had slept in his clothes in the dirt and still wearing them. He looked and felt disgusting.

"Oh, that's nice." It must be nice to know nothing other than the life of slavery. To not know what else there was. Still, John didn't mind it too much right now. Not now that he was with Sherlock, honestly. He nodded and unbuttoned the shirt with one hand, not able to pull it up and off and over his head like he had to put it on. He was careful pulling it down his arm, and he couldn't help but blanch a little to see the red stain on the bandages. John set down his bread and slid it down his legs, pushing it away from the 'danger zone' of where he might vomit if it was that bad. “Will we go to a doctor's tomorrow, Sir?"

Sherlock swore under his breath when he saw the blood. It wasn't terribly surprising but he had been hoping for something to go right for them once. “I will fetch one now. I don't care about the hour. It needs stitched up and you've lost enough blood as it is.” He could do it but it would be sloppy and it might not hold. “I'll be back. Just sit tight.” He left the room, asked around for the best doctor in town and where to find them. He was a little surprised the person he was directed to was a woman, as for the most part the medical field was usually made up of stuffy, old white men. He knocked on the door at her house and gave his best charming smile he could manage. “Doctor Hooper, my slave is in need of stitches and I've heard you are the best doctor in these parts.” Maybe he’d turned on the charm a little too much because she was smiling at him almost wistfully. As long as she helped, he didn't care though and he led her back up to the room. “John, this is Doctor Molly Hooper. Behave for her while she treats you.”

John watched him go without a word, looking at his shoulder and then reaching for his bread and milk. He wanted to finish it before it went bad, and was done when his Master returned with the doctor. He looked over at them as they came through the door, and John smile-grimaced. "Hello Doctor. As you can see I need stitches." He hadn't even taken the bandage off, but the fact that the stain was just a bit larger than it had been was a bit worrying.

Molly looked up at Sherlock, and then walked over to John. "What happened?" She asked, looking at Sherlock for permission to touch John. Once she had it, she removed the bandage and narrowed her eyes, glad she had brought her kit with her. "Alright, Mister Holmes. Is there anything you can give him while I do this? It's going to hurt him quite a bit."

“He was shot,” Sherlock answered vaguely on purpose. “I can get some liquor from the innkeeper I imagine.” He disappeared and brought a bottle of cheap whiskey. He went back upstairs and offered the bottle to John's good side. “Drink it when you need to. They didn't have any of the good stuff I'm afraid, so it won't be very strong but it will better than when I cauterized the wound.” He stood back and let Molly work. She seemed to go into doctor mode the moment they walked in. Efficient. Capable. Smart. He was glad he had listened to the townsfolk on who to go to and not just picking a random doctor.

John took it and Molly took the rest of the bandage off. "You're going to need to help hold him up when I do the back." She warned Sherlock, and then looked at John. "Start drinking it now, this is going to hurt."

John nodded and took a swig, and then coughed. The stuff was nasty, once again more like watered down piss, but it had alcohol in it and that was what he needed. He had the thing almost half finished before his shoulder finally began to numb the pain of the stitches, and Molly worked quickly. When his head tipped back, the bottle still only halfway gone, she had finished the front.

Then she turned to Sherlock, tried to calm her fluttering heart, and gave him her best doctor's glare. "You'll need to crawl over him and get on his other side to hold him up, he can't do it himself. After I do these stitches I can re-bandage them and he can lay on them again." She spoke the words to him sternly.

John's head was going limp, and he closed his eyes. The room was spinning again, and he didn't want to vomit up the good food he'd been given.

Sherlock watched Molly work in silence and merely nodded when told he would have to hold John up for her. He frowned at how much his slave had drank but it really couldn't be avoided at the moment. He moved as the doctor instructed and waited until she was finished to let John lay back down. “You do good work.” He nodded in appreciation as he appraised the stitches done on his slave. “Thank you. Do you require monetary compensation for your troubles? Perhaps I could buy you something you desire to show my gratitude?”

Molly smiled at the comment, tying off the string to John's stitches before she allowed herself to think about the comment. Her face went red as she watched Sherlock lower his slave down. "Umm...uh, I don't...n-no money, please, I was...happy to help." She bit her lip. "M-maybe your address so I can...inquire as to how he's doing?" She questioned, knowing it wouldn't be just to ask about John. Molly wasn't one for monetary compensation, because with the work she did people liked to pay her in favors, food, and more medical supplies. She didn't really need money with all the help she gave.

That was not the answer he was expecting. “Well, we will be staying here until he is able to ride on his own again. I am the lord and Master of the Holmes Manor about a day and a half's ride from here. For your services today, you will always be a welcome guest in my home.” Sherlock even gave a small but formal bow. It was considered to be proper etiquette and propriety, at least in his inner social circles. His parents would be proud he remembered his manners for once and Mycroft would probably tell him he did the bow all wrong. His brother always found fault with everything he did. “Do you require an escort home Doctor Hooper?” It was his gentlemanly duty after all, even if he felt ridiculous.

"I-I'll come see him tomorrow and see how he is." Molly told him, her face keeping its red shade. "It should be about...two days before he can ride on his own, but for his shoulder to heal it might take up to about a month for it to be mobile again." She couldn't help but give a clumsy curtsey in response to the bow-almost everybody only shook her hand, gave her their thanks, and then left. "Um, it's...gotten late, that would be nice, yes, thank you." She stammered her thanks.

John, from where he lay slumped on the bed, laughed. It startled Molly, though he said nothing. He was looking at Sherlock, and then he closed his eyes and turned his head and continued to giggle.

"Wh-what was that?" Molly asked in a whisper.

Sherlock nodded. Two days. That wouldn't be too bad, although he would be more than ready to leave the town by then. At least he had books and cards to keep him vaguely entertained. He glared at John for laughing, giving a small scowl before he left the room with Molly. He waved a dismissive hand at the question. “I think my slave drank too much alcohol, my deepest apologies for his rudeness.” He offered his arm and began walking her back to her house. He was certain he would never hear the end of this from his slave.

Molly nodded, accepting his words because she was able to hold his arm. She didn't even have to squeeze to feel the muscles under the cloth and sleeve, and thought to herself 'You can drool about him later, girl,' as they headed back to her house. The town was safe but it was still nice to have someone--a gentleman and a _Holmes_ no less!--walking her home. The fact that he was handsome didn't hurt. When he got her back to her house, Molly got on her toes and kissed his cheek. "Thank you." She spoke softly, and then headed back inside. She waited until she heard him walk away to squeal in happiness.

Sherlock blinked at the kiss, but figured Molly was just being polite. “Of course, it was my pleasure Doctor Hooper.” He left when he was sure she was safely inside her house and went straight back to the inn to check on John. “Get some rest. I am going to bathe and change out of these horridly dirty clothes. I look like a damned transient.” He sighed as he looked down at his ruined, posh suit. He could always buy more but honestly, he hated getting fitted by tailors. He stripped without a care and then disappeared into the bathroom for his long-awaited soak. He didn't take one as long as he liked, worried about leaving his slave too long. He came back in the room but merely put on some pants and plain tan trousers to sleep in. He was debating whether or not he should use a bed roll on the floor and sleep there.

John felt like it was forever before his Master returned and almost opened up his mouth to start calling out when Sherlock came back through the door. His eyes followed his Master faithfully, the alcohol on the nightstand by his side, and he only grunted and then giggled at his Master's words. John felt ridiculous and thick, he hated drinking but he knew it was necessary, for stitching a wound like his anyway. John put his eye on the door as though he was guarding his Master, despite the fact he couldn't move. He listened tiredly to Sherlock moving around, and when his Master eyed the floor John narrowed his eyes. "Sir, you can sleep in the bed as well." He wanted to have his Master in a real bed, even though John was in it as well. He didn't want an upset Master in the morning, and he didn't think the man would appreciate the hard floor. 

Sherlock hesitated but then nodded. “Fine, but not a _word_ about me being polite to a lady. It is bad enough you laughed about it and made a fool of me and you.” He lit a fire in the fireplace before he crawled over John at his feet so his slave wouldn't have to move over for him. He sighed as he laid down, pulling the covers up both of them. The alcohol should help John sleep, so that was something at least. He was actually tired from having traveled all day on a horse with someone slumped up against him.

"If it makes you feel so embarrassed, Sir, you can always just tell her I was drunk and didn't know what had happened." John murmured, remaining flat on his back. He couldn't shift to how he liked to sleep, unfortunately, but he felt mostly alright. That was thanks to the alcohol, really. When he thought his Master was asleep, John carefully put his arm over him in a sort of half-hug, and whispered, "Thank you for keeping me." Before finally falling asleep. He dreamed of being a child and unable to walk, but with Sherlock there to help him. And although he looked annoyed and tried to get everybody else to do it, he always came back and shooed them away because they weren't teaching John correctly.

“That is what I did,” Sherlock mumbled. It didn't take long to sleep and even though it wasn't his own bed it was nice to be sleeping in one and not on the lumpy ground in some forest. He slumbered peacefully and without dreams, he almost never had them. He woke with a yawn, eyes fluttering open slowly. It was morning already. He had slept well though. He became aware of an arm around him and he smiled a little. He shifted carefully and attempted to climb out of the bed without waking John up. His slave would need to sleep more than he did.

John mumbled nonsense when Sherlock slid out of his arm. He slapped it around where he had been for a moment, frowning, and then sighed. He shifted his hips in his sleep, raising a knee and then lowering it. About half an hour after Sherlock woke up, John opened his eyes. He yawned widely, covering his mouth with his good hand. He looked around for his Master, and then closed his eyes. He could wait for him to return, he didn't need to worry. Sherlock wouldn't leave him.


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock changed into a white buttoned up shirt, a black coat over it and black trousers. He picked up the trays from last night then left the room to go get himself some breakfast downstairs. He ate down there and then took food up to John. His slave needed to eat, although he wasn't sure John would be up to after the consumption of shitty liquor. “John, do you feel up to eating?” He was certain his slave was awake by now, his position had changed and the breathing pattern had changed. He placed the tray down on the nightstand by the bed. He would be bored most of the day, he figured so he went to his luggage to get his book about murder. It was quite lengthy but he should finish it today before night fall easy.

John opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock. His stomach rumbled and he nodded, his face turning red. "I think so, yeah." The liquor had left him with a slight headache, and he was thinking the best way to pass today would most likely be bed rest. He pushed himself back using his feet so he could sit up, trying to be quiet so Sherlock didn't notice and berate him. He sat himself up and then grabbed some of the food, eating it slowly. It was heavenly, especially after all the horrible alcohol from the previous night. He closed his eyes happily, hoping to head home quickly.

“Try not to move so much John,” he murmured from his spot on the floor without looking up from his book. Sherlock had sat so he could keep an on his slave with his peripheral vision. “How are you feeling today?” He asked and finally looked up from the book to look at John, looking over his slave with a critical eye. “Bed rest is what you need but if want a bath and a set of fresh clothes, I will let you get up for that. Perhaps you would like one of those books you bought for yourself later? I know how annoying and boring staying in bed can be. Consider this payback for when you were taking care of me.” He gave John a small smirk. 

John ate some of his food on the tray, and then looked at his Master. "Yes Sir. I feel...alright. Better than yesterday but I have a bit of a headache. It's from the alcohol." The idea of a bath did sound good, but maybe later, maybe after a nap, when he wasn't so achy and tired. "After breakfast and a nap, I think. I need to get rid of the headache before doing anything else, but I really want to get the blood off of me." John chuckled at Sherlock's words, shaking his head. "I think that it was a bit easier taking care of you. You just had a fever, not a hole in your shoulder."

"Good. I am glad to hear that you are feeling better." Sherlock nodded and went back to reading when John mentioned taking a bath after a nap. He couldn't help but laugh and he looked back up at his slave, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Me? I was easy to care for? Well that is a first I must say." He gave John a grin. "If I don't notice when you wake up from your nap while reading, call out to me and I will come help you to the bath." He returned his attention back to reading but made sure not to get too lost in it, and keep track of his slave.

"Yes Sir," John agreed, smiling widely. His cheeks really hurt but he didn't quite mind, it was nice to be able to make his Master smile and laugh honestly. "Easy enough, you were pretty much a rag doll." John yawned when he finished his food, putting the tray back on the nightstand. He doubted that his Master wouldn't notice when he woke up, he had noticed everything else so far. He settled back in the bed and closed his eyes, falling asleep quickly. He woke up a couple hours later, no longer with a headache. "Master?" he called as he woke, unable to open his eyes fully yet. He was tired and tried to move before he remembered his injury and hissed, falling onto his back again and then nodding and giggling at his idiocy.

Sherlock shot John a mock glare at being called a 'rag doll' but couldn't quite hide the smirk on his lips. He let his slave sleep and had actually finished the book and was now back to playing solitaire on the floor. He looked up when John called out to him. "Damn it. Take it easy." He got up and moved over to the bed. "Just rest a bit there and then we will see about you getting out of bed for that bath." He looked over John carefully, taking note of the shoulder in particular. "How are you feeling?"

"I forgot I had been shot." John giggled again and then sighed. "I'll be good. I'll behave." He rested easily and opened his eyes, able to see clearly now. "I'm in pain but it’s nowhere near like when you patched me up or when Dr. Hooper did it last night." John answered him after a minute or two of assessing his body. His shoulder throbbed weakly, and ached a little, but when he tried he could twitch his fingers. He grinned at his Master, finding the expression coming easier the longer he was around the other man. "Not a complete cripple it seems."

Sherlock nodded and continued to look John over critically. He gave a small smirk. "You better not be crippled. You wouldn't be of much use to me if you were." He was quiet for a thoughtful moment. "Are you going to want help with bathing? You shouldn't be using that arm yet. Don't want to risk causing too much strain and the stitches coming undone." He wanted to help but he didn't want to make John uncomfortable either. Although his slave seemed far more at ease with him since their journey together started.

"I'll do my best to not be cripple Sir." John gave a small smirk. If he was crippled he would be very unhappy. He wouldn't be able to do as much for his Master as he wanted, wouldn't be able to be a very good slave. It would be even more difficult to guard him if he was crippled as well. "As much as I would love to refuse your help, Sir, I'm quite afraid I will need it. I trust that you won't gawk at me and that you won't make any untoward advances." John met his Master's eyes. He sat up with the other man's help and sighed once he was up, leaving his hand on his Master's. "Thank you, Sir."

“Damn right you will.” Sherlock matched John's smirk. He nodded a little. “All right. I will try to keep my hands and eyes to myself while you bathe.” The smirk got bigger. It faded though and he simply shrugged off the thanks. “Just returning the favor,” he muttered. “A Holmes hardly ever owes anyone but when we do, we repay debts.” His smirk returned soon enough. “Now you have to almost die two more times and we will be even.” Once John was ready, he helped lead his slave to the bathroom and drew the water.

John did his best to walk on his own, though his legs were a bit weak and shaky after two days with no use. "Sir, you're the first person, even one who owes me something, who has actually helped me in a long while. Thank you, really. I may actually need your help washing myself because I can't really bend over. And I will try not to nearly die again. It is not fun at all Sir." John sighed as he sunk into the bath. It was nice and warm and helped to soothe his muscles and bruises. He couldn't wait to actually start to clean himself off and get what felt like pounds of dirt and blood off his body.

When John was in the tub, he grabbed a clean washcloth. Sherlock got soap as well and began to clean his slave up. It was a bit weird doing it, he had never done this for anyone else but himself before. “Just don't get used to me waiting on you hand and foot John.” He grinned a little and once he was satisfied his slave's body was clean, he grabbed some shampoo and massaged it into John's scalp gently. He grabbed a small plastic container and filled it with water. “I suggest you close your eyes,” he murmured before dumping the water on John's head to rinse it.

John kept his gaze on Sherlock as he moved around, gathering the supplies. It was strange and a bit uncomfortable to have somebody else cleaning him, and when Sherlock told him not to get used to it John only nodded. He closed his eyes a moment in thought "Believe me Sir, I don't think I could get used to it. I'm much more used to it being the other way around. I think I'll prefer to keep it that way unless you discover a fondness for washing me." John kept his eyes shut as Sherlock did his hair, enjoying that bit more than his body being washed. He took a deep breath when his Master dumped the water over his head, breathing out and wiping his face with his good arm to take the leftover water off. "That was refreshing."

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh. “Well, well well. Looks like the untamable slave has become _used_ to doing things.” He gave a small snort. “Believe me, I will never become used to doing things for others. I barely do things for myself. As you have already pointed out, I'm a lazy arse.” He gave a small shrug at that. “Do you want to sit and soak a bit? Or get out and maybe move around a little, get your legs used to the weight of your body again? You slept through lunch and I read through it, so we should both get dinner tonight as well.”

John gave a wicked grin at his Master. "Sir, I've had to clean people for years and I have tried to drown many Masters. Cleaning people is something I am very used to. Though I cannot expect you to be the same, as you are indeed a lazy arse, though a much nicer lazy arse than the rest of them." For a few moments he sat and stared at his legs before looking back up. "I think I'd rather walk so I'm not too lazy and weak when I begin to use my legs again. It would be better for me to walk than lay in here. I'll just prune if I stay in here too much longer." John held his arm out to get help up. "Perhaps we ought to walk down to dinner? Then I could get some exercise and we can both eat."

“Well, thank goodness you have shown mercy on this Master and haven't tried to drown me yet.” Sherlock gave a grin and then shrugged again. “Most would dispute that I am nice, but thank you anyways.” He nodded and helped John out of the tub, after he pulled the plug to let it drain. “That sounds good.” He helped his slave back to the room and even managed to find the patience to help John dress as well, making sure it was a loose fitting white cloth shirt so it wouldn't irritate his slave's shoulder too much. “All right, to dinner.” He led them down the stairs, going slower than his usual brisk pace. He eased John into a booth, rather than a table. He ordered them dinner and went to join his slave, sitting across from the injured man.

With every smile and good-natured comment Sherlock gave him, John could feel himself appreciating and admiring the man more and more. Upon first meeting, Sherlock did have a rough shell, but it appeared that underneath all his scowls and harsh words and cool exterior there was an honest, caring man below. John wondered how much of that man Sherlock knew he revealed while caring for him. He would never had expected such generosity from the man he first met. John was quiet while Sherlock took care of him, flushing when he helped to dry and dress him. If an outsider looked upon them it would seem John was the Master and Sherlock the slave. Going down the stairs was hard, and John was a bit tired by the end of it, but knowing that Sherlock would not leave him had him keeping his mouth shut and doing his best for the man. He felt awkward sitting in the booth and waiting for his Master to return with food, keeping his head down, and when Sherlock did come back John looked up at him and gave him a shy, honest smile. After all the care Sherlock had shown him, John knew he would never try to harm the man. Not unless it was the only thing to do. He wanted to speak but didn't know what to say but knew, Sherlock wasn't interested in the numerous thanks John could give. So, John hoped that he would be able to read just now grateful he was that Sherlock had not given up on him and left him.

Sherlock stared at John thoughtfully while he waited for their dinner to arrive. His slave was being quiet. Interesting. Usually John had something to say about well everything. He was fine with the silence and when the food came, he began eating it. The food was decent enough but nothing like what they had back at the manor. It was fine with him though, since he wasn't particular about food. It was all just part of transport to him really. “We can sit down here awhile if you are tired from the walk down here still.” He sat back a bit, now that he had finished his food and put his hands over his stomach.

John enjoyed the food, and was glad to be eating. He kept his gaze on his food and chewed on it carefully. It would be really pathetic to choke to death after surviving a gunshot to the shoulder. His Master didn't look too thrilled about it, but he hadn't really ever looked thrilled to be eating. "That would be a good idea, I think." John nodded in agreement, still eating slowly. He hadn't been able to finish all of his dinner the night before or his breakfast, and he knew that he needed to eat for his body to heal itself. Looking for a way to pass the time, John looked around at their dining companions. He remembered his Master telling him he read people well, and looked over at him. "What do you think off all these people Sir?" He asked, gesturing subtly to the other diners.

Sherlock nodded as well. He thought it was a good idea too. Going up the stairs would be more demanding than going down. He glanced at the other patrons in the diner, with a slight smirk. He would never give up a chance to show off. “Couple in the booth behind us, have been whispering and laughing all night. Obviously drunk and both adulterers. They are getting knowing looks by several people in the inn by locals. Apparently neither care about being discreet. Which means they both come from money and they married beneath them, but their spouses can't do anything about it since they have no real standing in the community. Getting divorced would cost money only the other spouse has and they would end up poorer than when they got married. The man in the far corner, facing the rest of the inn is a criminal. He is on the run. Based on the mud, shit and hay on his clothing, horses. He'll get hanged tomorrow soon I imagine. The innkeeper already alerted the authorities and they are about to walk through the doors right about....now.” He was proven right when two coppers came in and arrested the protesting man. He smirked again, clearly pleased with himself.

John listened as he ate, knowing thanks to that smirk that he had done the correct thing. Indeed, once Sherlock got started he was going, and John enjoyed it. His Master got a certain look in his eyes, and he seemed a bit happier. He tracked the people his Master spoke of, grinning as he realized that most of the people were indeed looking at the couple, and that the man he had pointed out was indeed dragged away, and quite loudly too. John frowned at the ruckus he made, and then looked back at his Master. "That's amazing Sir. Is there anything else?"

Sherlock would have been more than happy to go on but John said something he hadn't expected. Of course, it was amazing but that wasn't what he was usually told that. He was rather confused but pleasantly surprised by the praise. “Really? You think so? It's just...most people don't say that.” He sat up from his relaxed position and let his gaze sweep over the patrons again. If his slave really thought that then he would be more than happy to do it again. “The man behind us, sitting at the bar has been staring at the same shot of whiskey since we came downstairs. An alcoholic, though he has been sober for a while but his wife died and he is trying to decide if he should fall off the wagon. He won't, or he would have done it already. So, he will sit there all night crying and muttering to himself as he feels sorry for himself.”

"Yes, Sir. It was incredible. Quite amazing." John listened to his Master speak with a smile. He sat up when Sherlock did, setting both his arms on the table, and watched who he was speaking about. He turned around to look at the man and frowned. "Poor guy. I'd question staying sober too if the person I loved or cherished the most in my life was gone." Although at this rate it seemed Sherlock would be filling that role. He would have to reevaluate his life choices later, though he wouldn't concern himself too much. It wouldn't be too bad, not now. He nibbled on some more food and waited or his Master to continue.

Sherlock was not used to the compliments about his deductions but he didn't mind at all. If anything, they made him beam with pride. He shrugged a little at what John said. "I wouldn't really know. My brother has always said caring isn't an advantage. The Holmes don't take much stock in sentiment really." He shrugged again and when the door to the inn opened he scowled when he saw who it. "Be quiet now and let me do all the talking," he murmured. "Officer Donovan," he greeted when she came over to the table with the most charming smile he could manage.  
  
"Hello freak. Heard you were in town. Guy got killed next town over, you wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"  
  
"Why would I?" Sherlock shrugged. "I was only there for a little while to make an arranged exchanged with one of my brother's slaves."  
  
"Just happen to be there huh? If I can find proof you were involved, I'm coming after you." Sally turned and left in a huff.  
  
Sherlock smirked. "Good luck with that."

John frowned. It wasn't fair that Sherlock was told not to care, but he could see how it would benefit them. They couldn't be too kind when it came to their business, and if they did wind up letting their emotions get in the way they could suffer a loss in business. John grunted at Sherlock as he ate, grateful he'd shown enough sentiment to keep John around. He looked up when his Master scowled stronger than he'd ever seen him do so. John followed his gaze to the woman and then looked down. He kept his head down as long as she was there, eating quietly and not saying a word. His heart began to beat faster and that made his shoulder ache a little, but he trusted Sherlock. He sighed in relief when she left. "Christ, I hope nobody saw me too well. I don't want my image drawn out for them to look."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. She is after me, not you. She didn't even look at you once. She just always assumes when something happens, especially a murder, I am involved somehow. Sometimes she is right but mostly wrong." Sherlock gave a dismissive shrug. "Everything will be fine," he reassured John. Although Donovan had put him in a bit of a bad mood now. "Whenever you are done eating, I will be ready to go back upstairs. You need some more rest." And he wanted to brood a little. It would be too dark to read or play cards. Well, he could light a fire but he would be squinting to see anyway.

"I don't think I can eat anymore after that Sir. I was getting full anyway." The feeling of being so close to an officer of the law had his stomach rebelling a bit. He sat back to let the food settle a minute and then nodded at his Master. "I'm done now." He appreciated the help up, not making any noise, and moved a bit faster up the stairs than he had coming down. He hoped to get out a bit tomorrow as well, he hated being cooped up in a room. "Do people often accuse you of murders Sir?" John asked when they were back in the room.

Sherlock frowned when John didn't finish dinner but helped his slave back up to the room anyway. "You are to eat all of your breakfast tomorrow and no skipping any meals," he grumbled. He couldn't help but smirk at the question as he helped John into the bed. "Yeah, sometimes. I've done some things that aren't exactly legal but never killed anyone. Well, those men that ambushed us but that was self-defense." He gave a slight shrug and then turned to light the fireplace so the room would be warm tonight when they went to bed.

"Yes Sir." He'd probably be hungry enough to eat all three meals tomorrow. He settled into the bed, pulling up the covers a bit but waiting for his Master before pulling them completely up. He took a look around and sighed happily as the first waves of warmth from the fire began to heat him. "I'm willing to bet everybody has done some illegal things. And you weren't the only one killing them in self-defense. I wonder if their bodies have been found yet. Probably, it's been a few days...they're bound to start stinking soon."

Sherlock stripped out of this usual attire and put on simple trousers before finally climbing into the bed with John. “Some people more than others,” he agreed.  “Maybe. Depends on how stupid the people going by them on the road are.” He shrugged a little. He obviously didn't think very much of most people. Or people in general. He wasn't really very tired but he didn't have anything else to do either. So, he laid in the bed and stared up at the ceiling as he waited to get drowsy. “Get some good sleep John. I want you to walk around more tomorrow than you did today.”

John kept his eyes off of Sherlock while he changed, looking up at the ceiling instead. He nodded his agreement to his Master. John chuckled at Sherlock's statement and shook his head. "Given as the only real walking I did today was to the bath and back, and then down to do near and back, I don't think it will be very hard to get more in tomorrow Sir." John closed his eyes. The fire was warm and Sherlock was warm on his good side. It took him a few drowsy moments to realize his Master was not as tired as he was and he elbowed the taller man gently. "Want me to tell you a bedtime story to help you fall asleep?"

“I will even make you pick up after me tomorrow. Use your good arm if you must.” Sherlock was actually getting tired of helping John already. It just wasn't something that was really in his nature and it was starting to annoy him. People were supposed to work for _him_ , not the other way around. He frowned at the question. Bedtime story? “I don't think I've ever had one told to me before,” he admitted. Maybe when he was really little but he didn't remember. “Sure, I guess. I feel like I am a little too old for bedtime stories though,” he mumbled.

"Yes Sir." Even if his arm fell off he would do what he was told. He thought about a story for a minute, and how young Sherlock had to have been to not remember one being told to him, before beginning. "You're never too old for bedtime stories. There was once a duck family, alright? They had four eggs, and when the time came all of them hatched. Only one of the ducklings was peculiar compared to the rest. It was grey where the others were brown, and couldn't walk as well as them on land though in the water he swam beautifully. All the other ducks made fun of him because he didn't look right..." John continued speaking, his voice low and soothing, as he thought about the last time he'd said the story of the Ugly Duckling. It had been to a child, and a rather snotty one at that, and when John got bored of him interrupting he finally just told the brat that the swan killed all of the ducks who had made fun of him and nobody ever did it again or they lost their eyes and then their heads. Needless to say, he was given away not long after. "It turned out that the ugly duckling was really beautiful swan. He had finally found a home, and he lived as happily as a swan could until he died."

Sherlock furrowed his brows at the story. That was one of the dumbest things he had ever heard. “Of course, it wasn't a duck. It was obviously a swan from the start.” Although, he could relate to the story a bit he supposed because he was used to being viewed as different or eccentric. Even psychotic depending on the person asked. Was that why John had picked the story? Maybe that was how his slave viewed him. He thought about asking but it was just a stupid story. And anyway, John looked like he was asleep or well on the way there. He was too busy analyzing the story to sleep now and it took him much longer for his eyes to finally close and his breathing evened out as sleep finally found him.

When John woke up the next morning, the sun was not even up yet. He lay in bed, nearly overheating though the fire was out, with his Master's head on his chest and an arm around his waist. His own arm was pressed against his Master's back and hip, holding him, and John carefully removed it. He did the same as he carefully removed himself from his Master's hold, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed. Taking a deep breath he put weight on them, and then stood. They were a bit shaky but he continued to move--first to the fire, which was burning low, to put some more wood in it and then to relieve himself in the chamber pot--they grew stronger and steadier. He grabbed the book with the prince in it and sat by the fire, legs pulled up and wounded arm in his lap, to read until his Master woke. He would have gotten food but he didn't want to try going down the stairs without his Master knowing.

Sherlock groaned when John got out of the bed. He snuggled into his pillow to get some of the lost warmth back. He didn't wake until light drifted through the window and onto his face. He mumbled in his sleep but slowly woke. He hadn't meant to sleep so long. Or maybe he had just fallen asleep much later than he'd realized. He frowned when he realized he was alone in his bed. “John?” He mumbled and looked around the room as he sat up quickly. Oh. There was his slave. Reading a book. “I trust you are better then, since you are moving around on your own?”

Said slave looked up when he heard his name, curious as to what could be required of him so early. It appeared that his Master had only been looking for him and, just as he had the first day, he worked his way standing. He steadied himself, held his book, and walked over to his Master. "A bit, yes Sir. Still a bit weak in the legs and lightheaded when I move too fast. Other than that, fine." His shoulder throbbed a bit as well but that could be overlooked. "Did you need something Sir? I can go and get breakfast for us, or do you want to go to the dining hall to eat again?" He questioned, standing although his right leg trembled slightly. John figured it was just a bit of nerve damage from when he fell off and would fix itself soon enough.

“Then don't move fast.” Sherlock gave a small smirk. “I didn't need anything, no. I just wasn't sure where you were for a moment.” He got out of bed. “I'll bathe and then we can go downstairs and eat there. You aren't ready to carry things up and down stairs yet. Clean up my clothes off the floor while I get ready for the day.” He disappeared to the bathroom, took a quick bath and then got dressed in his usual posh attire. “You are to eat everything ordered today John. Are you going to want help navigating the stairs?”

"Always nearby Sir." John nodded at Sherlock's words. He didn't plan on moving too fast, not unless he was asked. He didn't think Sherlock would push him so hard yet. He hoped not at least. He picked up the clothes when his Master went to bathe, folding them and setting them on the luggage. The folds weren't as neat as usual because of his weaker arm, but they were still packed nicely. He picked up a few other things while waiting for Sherlock to finish bathing, and when it was done he read a few paragraphs in his book. He looked up and set it aside when Sherlock walked back in. He was quite hungry and was looking forward to food. "Yes Sir. I'll just try to keep one hand on the railing. I should be alright." John knew he would be all right as long as he didn't try to rush.

Sherlock nodded, but walked slowly so he could keep pace with John just in case his slave faltered and needed some assistance. He walked down the stairs, taking care to go even a little slower for John's benefit. It felt like he was barely moving at all, but he was just used to much longer strides that what he was taking at the moment. “Find a place to sit and I will order for us, then it can be brought to us and neither of us have to carry it.” He gave a small grin before he went to go place their order. It didn't take him long and he found the table John chose easily and sat down with him.

John made his way down the stairs carefully. He tried to move normally but it was difficult. He found a table near a window for them, and looked out at the people passing by. He looked up with a smile when his Master returned. "Will we be leaving today Sir?" He watched the people outside from his peripherals. Turning his head a little he thought he saw Officer Donovan again, talking with a woman with brown hair, but he wasn't paying too much attention.

“I had thought about it but I think it would be best until we wait until tomorrow. We would just have to stop a lot for you if we left today and wouldn't cover much ground at all.” Sherlock missed little to nothing and he noticed Donovan talking with Doctor Hooper. That didn't really come as any surprise. It wasn't the first time she had made a run at him with some form of allegation or other. It wouldn't be the last either, he supposed. “Besides, bolting out of town would only make us look guilty now that Donovan is snooping around. Don't be surprised if she comes back with more questions. Like before I will do all the talking. I've played poker with you John, so you will be quiet the whole time. I will tell her I have forbade you from speaking to strangers unless I give you expressed permission to do so. Since it is a direct order from a Master, she can't make you disobey it. Thanks to my brother, there are a lot of laws in place now that benefit slave owners from a lot of laws.”

He resented the fact that Sherlock so plainly stated that they'd have to stop a lot for him, but John knew it was true. Too much horse movement so soon would not be a boon to them. He looked out the window at where Donovan was with Dr. Hooper and then back at his Master. The fact that the woman would know of his shoulder wound made him nervous, but he knew he'd be fine. John snorted a laugh at the comment about poker. "You forfeited our game Sir, so technically you lost. I suppose we'll have to try again when you're not getting over being sick, and later when I am not immediately wounded." His lips twitching vaguely. Dr. Hooper was waving toward the inn they were in, and John felt a bit sick knowing that slave owners could protect their slaves from the law at the same time as being able to hide things from them. Sexual acts were considered allowed because slaves were not their own people, but John knew quite a few who had either become broken or taken their own lives because they had no choice. He hummed a moment, staring out the window, and when he noticed Donovan looking he turned and dropped his head.

Sherlock scowled at the mention of him forfeiting the game. “We will have a rematch indeed then.” The food was served but he ignored it for a moment. “You know if you keep staring like that, it only makes you look guilty.” He gave a small smirk and then began eating. “Now eat your breakfast. You need the strength for tomorrow if we are to leave.” His gaze drifted to the door as Donovan walked in. She had a confident, smug smirk on her face. What the hell did she think she had by talking to Doctor Hooper? “Officer Donovan, the pleasure is all yours I am sure. What do you want this time?”

“Your slave there, he got shot in the shoulder. They shot a guy fleeing the crime scene got shot in the shoulder too. Care to explain that to me?” Sally crossed her arms over her chest confidently.

“Sure. I shot him. He was trying to run and I thought about just leaving him for dead and then I thought...no…I'll make him learn some more lessons. He isn't allowed to speak to anyone but me at the moment, or I cut his tongue out. Ask anyone who has ever known me and my treatment of slaves and they will tell you I have very low tolerance and even a sadistic approach to breaking them. This is just part of the process right now. I heard about this murder you spoke about, it happened at night right? Well, my slave and I left town during the day and weren't even there then so you will just have to go find someone else to blame.”

Donovan glared at Sherlock. “This isn't over freak!” She stormed out of the inn.

As Donovan came in, John did his best to look scolded and sullen as he ate. It didn't take too much effort, he simply channeled in his upset from previous Masters. Listening to Donovan speak to his Master so badly upset John even more though he was careful not to show it. Still, he didn't want people knowing his Master was nicer than they thought. He was still a bastard and a lazy arse, but John was finding he could look past it some. When Sherlock spoke of cutting out his tongue John almost choked on his laughter. He carefully swallowed it down, eyes watering as though he really had choked on a piece of food. But Donovan's parting comment made his good humor of his tongue disappear. His Master wasn't a freak, he was a genius! Just because he had the social niceties of a petulant five-year-old who had learned swear words did not make him a freak, and his ability to read people was amazing. He scoffed as soon as her back was through the door and chewed angrily to keep his temper down.

Sherlock could tell John appreciated the bit about the tongue being cut out and he would have smirked and commented on it to his slave, but John looked angry. He wasn't sure why. Things had gone smoothly he thought. Had he made a faux pas of some sort and not realized it? No. His slave wouldn't be upset over something like that. Maybe something Donovan had said then? He couldn't figure it out so he shrugged it off and went back to eating. At least John was eating after the copper had left. It bothered him he couldn’t figure something out and he had to ask. “John, why are you mad? Something in the conversation with Donovan is all I can deduce it down to.”

John swallowed what was in his mouth carefully. "She called you a freak, Sir. I didn't like it. You're not a freak, unless it is now synonymous to genius. Even then, freak is never associated with anything good. Maybe it shouldn't bother me but you've done a lot for me, so to hear someone speak badly about you in front of me makes me feel upset." He was being honestly, keeping his voice down. He didn't want everybody else in the dining hall to know what he was saying, it was none of their business. Even so, he longed to shout it out that Sherlock was a better Master than the others he'd had, and if anybody wanted to bother him they had best go through John first.

Oh. That was new. Sherlock frowned in thought but nodded. “I guess I am just used to it and I have been called much worse by other people anyway.” He shrugged a little. It hadn't even phased him. He knew he was freak, an outcast, different. He just didn't care. He couldn't afford to. It was nice though, that someone even bothered to care about him at all to be offended on his behalf. He resumed eating, puzzling over the situation still. He finally spoke again after a few minutes. “Well, thank you for caring. It is not a thing I am accustom to.”

John growled under his breath but continued to eat. He nodded at Sherlock only, keeping his gaze on his food. He didn't like that his Master was used to it, he shouldn't have to be. It may be part of the business but it was ridiculous. Molly Hooper walked in a few minutes later and John almost glared at her, though he knew she was honest and had only spoken to Donovan because she was the town's doctor, of course somebody with an injury would be brought to her attention.

"I...I just spoke with Officer Donovan but she didn't seem too happy when she walked out. Are you in any trouble?" Molly asked quietly, looking more so at Sherlock than John. That was fine with John, he just wanted to stuff his face to keep his mouth shut. He still had half a plate to finish.

Sherlock blinked at the growl but decided he shouldn't ask this time. John seemed genuinely upset people were rude to him on daily basis, but to be fair he was pretty rude himself so he didn't take much stock in what others thought. He looked up from his food at Doctor Hooper. “Everything is fine. There was just a misunderstanding between Officer Donovan and I, that's all. John is doing much better, thank you. We plan to leave tomorrow. I think he should be able to ride without too much trouble and without too many stops along the way.”

Molly smiled in a relieved manner. "That's good. If you want you can stop by my house tomorrow and I can take one last look at it before you go, to make sure the stitches will hold up correctly." Not to mention she wanted to see Sherlock before he left, and to maybe, if she was careful, slip a note into his saddle bag. Molly couldn't help her infatuation--Sherlock Holmes was the best-looking man to come into town in a long while. His slave wasn't too bad either, but Sherlock was more exotic and just slightly more available.

John carefully chewed and swallowed, keeping his head down, and did his best not to really choke as he ate. It would be embarrassing to choke with a doctor by the table.

Sherlock noticed how uncomfortable John was but there wasn't much he could do about it at the moment so he just kept his attention on Doctor Hooper instead. “Maybe. My brother was expecting us back a few days ago but I'm sure him waiting a few more hours won't matter. We'll see.” He gave his best genuine fake smile. He resumed eating, hoping she would just leave because he didn't feel like having to keep up the he was a gentleman scene. He had only been polite the first night because she had been willing to help John with no real questions or a form of payment.

"I um...It wouldn't take longer than a few minutes, just to be safe." She could get the hint that something was bothering Sherlock and thought she should leave. "Well, uh...I hope to see you tomorrow." Molly glanced at John but her attention was mainly on Sherlock, and she left quickly and a bit flustered.

John watched her go, a bit amused at how embarrassed she had been as she left. He looked back down, glad to see he had almost finished his food, and leaned back to give his stomach a small rest before continuing again. He'd wanted to be a doctor as a child. A doctor and a soldier. And here he was, injured after killing his father and the slave of one of the wealthiest men around. How strangely life and destiny played cards together.

“Oh thank God,” Sherlock muttered under his breath when Doctor Hooper had finally left. He could only pretend to be polite for so long. He glanced over to John and frowned at the remaining food on the plate. “We aren't leaving this table until you finish your breakfast young man.” He spoke like a parent might to a child, but the smirk on his lips betrayed him. He finished his own plate and glanced around the quiet place. It didn't seem very busy in the morning but it would fill up in the evening. “What do you think John? Want to see Doctor Hooper one last time before we head out tomorrow morning?”

John smiled a little at the relief in his Master's voice when Dr. Hooper left, finding it amusing how he could pretend to be such a gentleman and yet such a complete arse in reality. "Come now Sir, you can't be your regular self while in business meetings, surely?" John asked, picking up his fork but not making any movement to eat yet. He had to be careful with how much he ate or else he might feel the urge to vomit, and the food was too good for that though not excellent. He cocked his head a moment, thinking. "It'd probably be best Sir. Given as she knows what her stitches should look like if I've done anything to irritate them, which I doubt, she'll be able to tell and tell us how easy we should take it. I'm certain it'll be quick and we will be able to go swiftly." And they could get his horse on the way back if Greg hadn't have grabbed him already.

“Sometimes. Luckily, my brother handles most of the meetings. Which is interesting, since he is the smart one. Imagine what ordinary people look like to him, if he thinks I'm stupid.” Sherlock shrugged a little. He eyed John a little. “If eating more will make you sick, then don't force yourself to. We can go back up to the room if you are ready. You ate most of it.” He sighed and nodded in agreement. “Yes, I suppose you are right. I honestly don't know why she seems so smitten with me, we have only just met. Surely she has heard of my reputation, it keeps most women away at least. Some men too,” he added as an afterthought. He didn't have any real preference either way, well maybe a slight leaning towards blokes when he did use slaves for pleasure.

"Goldfish? I heard somewhere that fish have short memories, and I suppose us ordinary people must appear like that to both of you." He looked down at his food. Really, he was three quarters done, bites taken from everything, but he just could not bring it in him to finish. He put his fork and knife on the plate and pushed it in front of him slightly. Thank God, he didn't have to eat it all, or he'd have wobbled up the stairs. He looked around at the dining room and then stretched out his hand a bit as if to show Sherlock the people in there "Well, just look at them all Sir. They're all plain and boring looking, like myself. Straight hair and plain eyes, and she sees them all the time. And here you come with your raucous curls, dawn colored eyes, and skin like castle marble. Not to mention you're showing at least a little compassion for a slave who you probably should have let die. You approached her nicely. She thinks you are the most gentlemanly person she's ever met, and the fact that you're handsome doesn't hurt." John knew people, could understand their feelings. He could understand why Molly could fall for Sherlock's gentlemanly act.

“Goldfish?” Sherlock echoed in clear confusion until John finally explained. He shrugged then but gave a slight nod. “Yes, I suppose so.” He watched his slave push the plate away but didn't comment. Instead he looked around the inn, as John had suggested. He raised his eyebrows at John's description of him. “I'm a real person John, not a fictional character. You make it sound like I'm someone out of a book, but that is quite possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” He gave a small smile at that. “I guess dating isn't really my area. I'm pretty much married to my work. Also, I would make a horrid husband for anyone. As you said, people are goldfish to people like my brother and me.”

John was glad that his explanation made at least a small bit of sense to Sherlock. He hadn't been certain that it would. He couldn't stop the small eye-roll that escaped him when Sherlock stated he was a real person, though he did smile a little as well. "The next time you are able to look in a mirror, tell me I am not correct. Your curly hair refuses to stay down, and your eyes really do look like the dawn Sir. The palest blue right as the night fades, leading into the golden sunrise." He paused, realizing just how much he was beginning to sound like a poet. That was a bit disturbing. He made a silent resolution to say nice words to his Master a few times a day, to make up for the morons of the world. "And what work is that Sir? Just the slaves or anything else?" Although John did have to nod at the fact that Sherlock would make a horrid husband. "If they mouthed off to you Sir, you'd threaten to cut out their tongues. Even if you ever had children you still would." John's lips quirked up into a small, amused smile.

“While I have quite the ego, it has never been about my looks. Just my genius, which means far more to me than something as frivolous as aesthetics. To be honest, I've never even thought about. It isn't my fault my hair is full of unruly curls. And of course, I can't do anything about my eye color either. Just a bunch of speckled colors put together to me.” Sherlock studied John but couldn't think of words to describe his slave. Not in the same way anyway. “Mostly just the family business, but I do try and find things to challenge me. Murders are quite interesting to look into, especially when they kill multiple people.” He smirked and then couldn't help but laugh at the last thing John said. “God help me if I am ever cursed with children.”

"Well, with your genius and your pleasing looks I'm certain that if you wanted to you could bring the world to its knees Sir." John told him, not realizing that he was actually leaning towards his Master. "Do you ever brush your hair? And I rather like your eyes. I've never seen anybody else with such a color. And you wear them wonderfully, Sir." He ignored the studious look. He was plain, with wheat-colored hair and eyes like a troubled river. There were at least twenty other men like him in this town alone. "Murders, Sir? Sounds exciting. How often do you look into those?" He questioned, and was glad to hear his Master laugh. "I don't know about God, but I would always lend my support to you."

“If I wanted to, I suppose I could. Too much work in my opinion.” Sherlock shrugged a little. “Sometimes I do. It gets knotted easily because of the curls. I tried having short hair once but it just looks... _wrong_ on me I guess is the best way to explain it. Perhaps I am little vainer that I thought.” He gave a smirk. “Yes. Murders are very exciting. I don't get to investigate as many as I would like. Largely because the plantation I live on is not near much of anything. Word of things is slow to get to me. On the particularly tough ones, coppers will consult me. That's what I do in what spare time I can afford, is be a consulting detective. The only one in the world.” He seemed quite proud of that. “John, I never want to have children. They are loud, need constant attention and are small dumber humans than adults. I would lack the patience and the overall desire to ever deal with them.”

"Make sense, Sir. I guess that's a bonus of having straight hair. It's easy to take care of." John gave a shrug. He could mess it up or brush it down with just a few strokes of his hand. He couldn't picture his Master with short hair. Maybe as a child but not as an adult. God, no. "That sounds like fun Sir. How do you help them? Do they ride out to get out and take you to the scene or just bring you sketchings...?" John asked curiously, wondering how often it did happen and if he had slaves drive him out in a carriage or if he rode out. "It sounds almost like you could make a business off of that, Sir. Surely people would like a consulting detective to help them with...cases." John suggested, giving a one-shouldered shrug. He bit his lip against the last two sentences. Sherlock did not realize that, to slaves, their Masters basically were the same, just older and able to hit far harder. "You lack patience for people in general Sir.”

“They usually come get me, asking for assistance. I ride with them to wherever. It is just because they are idiots and miss the obvious. They see but don't observe. If I didn't have a plantation to run, I would. Mycroft would make my life more miserable than he already does if I bailed on him.” Sherlock sighed. He hated the family business. Talk about _boring_. It was just the same thing every day practically, with only minor altercations every now and then. He smirked. “Exactly John. My patience is basically nonexistent, I would never be able to handle being around a child for any amount of time.”

John hummed his agreement. He could imagine running a business getting boring. The same thing, day after day...yet again, it was like being a slave. The same job for the same people day in and day out, with breaks on rare occasions, whippings, cleaning, keeping a bed warm...everything got tedious after a while. John had known of some slaves who ran away just for something different, something to change the schedule a little. He rolled his eyes at Sherlock's statement about his patience. "I must be an anomaly Sir, because you have been quite patient with me, which I still thank you for, by the way." John imagined that if Sherlock got used to the idea of a child and the benefits he probably wouldn't mind one too much, but he wouldn't press the issue.

Sherlock finally got up from the chair, stretching a bit. He had gotten tired of sitting. “Back upstairs.” He waited for John before he began going back up, just to make sure his slave didn't need help. “Well, I find you more interesting than most. Maybe it is because I am fond of you, I let you test my patience a little more than others do. Sentiment is strange like that and I find myself more often than not, not understanding it all.” He opened the door for them. “If you need to rest, then do so. I will make sure not to read through lunch this time. I want you to at least have three meals today, since you haven't finished your last two.”

John did the same, though he didn't stretch. He waited for his Master to finish before heading for the stairs with him. They made it up safely and John was pleased to know that his Master was fond of him. "Not to be offensive Sir, but you are the first Master to be fond of me since the four year old that came out of....oh, what was her name?" John shook his head. He couldn't remember the woman herself, but her daughter had adored John and had been well-behaved to him, so he had been the same to her. "I'll see if I can sleep, but I want to try and read more of my own book as well."

Sherlock gave a slight smirk. “Perhaps they weren't so fond of you because you were uncooperative arse. You were as such for me the first day but you have gotten better, by a lot.” He gave John a slight pat on the good shoulder. “You don't have to sleep, just take it easy.” He grabbed the other book his slave had bought for him and stretched out on the bed. “We can sit and read if you want. The bed is much more comfortable than the floor though. We just have to make sure we don't skip lunch this time.” He gave a grin, set the book down and moved to see if John would want help easing into the bed before he started reading.

"You were the first person to give me a reason to be better." John was a bit surprised by the amiable pat to his shoulder though he didn't show it. "I can't promise I'll _always_ be well behaved, I'm only human, but I will do my best to not embarrass you or do anything to make you want to cut my tongue out too often." John grabbed his own book and joined his Master on the bed. It had a slow build up but was finally getting interesting. The characters were fairly well thought out and there was just enough anger and angst in the book to get John's stomach rolling with worry. He looked at his Master's second book and smiled, pleased he had made good choices. He set the pillows for himself on the headboard and sat against them, leaving his book in his lap to read. "A good book is more important than lunch." John murmured with a smile, though he didn't want to skip it either.

Sherlock shrugged. “You told me what you wanted and I gave it to you in exchange for your servitude. It was a calculated risk but one I do not regret making now. It has worked out well for both of us I think. Perhaps even better than either of us anticipated.” He couldn't help but grin at John's remark about cutting out his tongue. It seemed to be an inside joke between them now. He had never had that before and he decided he liked it. “Lunch is more important when I have a stubborn slave to take care of,” he muttered. 

"You were going to kill me and that was completely unacceptable." John told him while they settled in. He hummed in response--it really had been a good idea to turn his life over to Sherlock, though he knew at times he would doubt it. He saw the grin on his Master's face and knew that he had caught the joke. When they settled in to read John felt his good arm pressed lightly against his Master's. He didn't know how long they read for but the silence was nice and companionable. As he had thought, Sherlock really was like the four-year-old who had once liked him. John giggled at some parts in his book and set it down once he was halfway through. He looked over his Master's shoulder, curious as to what he was reading in the book, and got caught up reading over his shoulder.

Sherlock couldn't argue with that. He had planned to kill John at first. He found himself pleased he hadn't now. He had noticed they were pressed together a bit but he didn't mind. He read quickly, but paused when he noticed John was staring at his book as well. He smirked a little but kept his gaze on the pages. “It is rude to read over someone's shoulder.” He finally looked up and over to his slave. “We should get some lunch. I think it is about time, maybe a little after even.” He marked the page and then closed the book, setting it aside beside him on the bed.

Sherlock read faster than he did, almost skimming the pages as to where John read each word and sentence a couple times to memorize it. He began to try to read as fast as his Master but then he shut the book. John felt the urge to pout but didn't, knowing better than _that_ at least. He grunted his agreement and ignored the slight rumbling of his stomach in favor of swinging his legs over the side and pushing himself onto the ground. He stood for just a couple moments before moving out of the way for his master. "Downstairs again Sir?"

Sherlock noticed the look on John's face. “You may read it when I'm done if you want. The other one is yours to read as well, if you wish. Maybe I will even entertain the idea of reading whatever fictitious things you bought.” He got up after John and nodded. “Yes, that will be fine.” He led them downstairs, still going slow for John's benefit. “Sit and I will order like last time.” He left his slave at a table, ordered them some food and then sat down across from John like he had on the previous occasions of eating together.

"I will hurry to finish my book then, Sir. I do hate to start a book when there is one I haven't finished." John smiled at his Master, able to walk a bit faster and fairly close to normal. It was a bit strange to have his Master walking with him but he liked it. John got a table for them, this time closer to the fire than the window. It was pleasantly warm and he looked out at the other diners. When one looked like they might make eye contact John made himself look past them, carefully avoiding any type of interaction. When his Master came over John shifted on his seat so he was sitting properly and looking at his Master. "What do you think of the people in here right now Sir?" John asked, hoping his Master would do more of his deductions.

Sherlock looked around at the different patrons. He deduced them easily but they were all so boring and ordinary. He did like to show off though. “The couple near the door, recently married. Couldn't afford a proper honeymoon so they are staying at an inn rather than at the bloke's parents house. The rings are used, probably kept in the family. They are well worn but don't quite fit them right and they fidget with them subconsciously because they aren't used to wearing them yet. She is pregnant, but hasn't told him. Based on his hands, he is carpenter and the woman works as midwife when it is needed, that is how she knows she is pregnant already, been around it enough to know. Not a very exciting deduction I'm afraid.” He sighed and gave a small shrug. The food came shortly after he had finished and he began eating.

John listened raptly. He looked over at the couple and watched them for a couple minutes, watching them mess with their rings and smile like they still had the world at their beck and call. Every now and then her hands would stray to her stomach, give it a caress, and then return to the table. "If they're newlyweds they must have had premarital sex for her to know already. It takes about three weeks minimum for a woman to know, though more commonly six I think, and people normally go on honeymoons within a few days of their wedding, gone for up to a week before they must return to their duties." John stated as he began to eat as well. He was grateful that there was no ale today, as he didn't think he'd be able to stomach it. Watered down piss was not high on his list of things to drink, not anymore.

“Mmm, yes of course. She talked him into marrying early so they wouldn't have a child out of wedlock. But she still hasn't told him. Nervous maybe. Announcing it so early would be an upset to both traditional parents. She could just claim she had the child earlier than expected and no one would be the wiser I suppose. People really are idiots.” Sherlock shrugged again, since he didn't really care either way. He continued eating the food but stopped after a moment to study John curiously. “Are you still going to want a cot at the manor in my room? We have been sleeping quite comfortably next to each other the last few days, even when sleeping in the dirt.” It had been awkward to him at first, he hadn't been used to the close proximity while sleeping but he had grown used to it. Even found comfort in it, if he was going to be honest with himself.

"Mhmm. Hopefully the baby will go full term and not be early, though. People are only stupid so far." John agreed, eating comfortably in the silence until Sherlock spoke. He looked up, continuing his eating, and thought a moment. They had been sleeping well next to each other, and John knew and hoped that there would be no touches of any sort-for his Master's experiments or pleasure-while they slept. "I imagine I am Sir. It would also seem ungrateful of me given as you could have made me sleep on the floor. We have been quite comfortable, I imagine there would be no change once we return to the manor." John was already imagining a bigger bed with more space to spread out unless his Master took over his space while he slept.

“Why would things change? I may be bit more direct and rude when other slaves are present but anything that happens in my room will be just like it is now.” Sherlock managed a faint smirk. “Have to maintain the image of uncaring and cruel master, or other slaves might get ideas and think they can make changes. I really should hire people to work at the manor, to keep slaves in line. They could easily take over and kill me if they took the time to work together. Lucky for me, they aren't that smart.” He gave a dismissive shrug. “Too bad I hadn't met you as free person, I would gladly have someone like you be a foreman for me.”

"I believe I can handle that. With any luck they will ignore me, or at least not make any confrontations." John looked back down at his food. He ate it until Sherlock spoke of foreman and blanched, his food turning the wrong way to swallow and he began to cough. Christ, if Sherlock did that...foremen and watchmen were some of the worst people John knew of. He had many scars from where some had been bored and decided to nitpick things that slaves did, whipping them for anything they did wrong. "If...if you think that is best, Sir." John spoke quietly, moving the food around on his plate. "I'm not sure I would have been a good foreman. Too compassionate, I'm afraid. I find that people work better happy than scared."

Sherlock frowned as he watched John curiously. “It is either that, or sell some of the slaves at my plantation. I probably have more than necessary. That's what happens when you breed slaves though. Can't really be at the top at the slave trade though, without producing some of the best slaves in the market. Breed them, train them right away and they turn out much better than people forced into slavery for debt or sold off by families for whatever reason. I admit, I am lazy arse and haven't been selling as many as I should. It isn't like I need the money. Should get on that, don't want the place to overcrowding. I'm just...not very motivated. It is all so _boring._ ” He hated doing it. He sighed and pushed his plate away even though he had barely eaten half.

John was quiet. He ate his food, knowing that it was all Sherlock had been raised to know, and that it was all he should expect of the other. But knowing that Sherlock saw them as animals was a bit disappointing. They had been having such a nice conversation, too. He was rather uninterested in his food but continued eating. The comment about people being sold from their families made him burn a little. "I suppose, then, that if I had been born into your household I would be a better slave than I am now." John did not look up at Sherlock. They had been having a good conversation. Maybe he shouldn't be so affected by it, but if his father hadn't have sold him, John would be free and likely know almost nothing of Sherlock except for his name. He tried to move past that and worry more about the fact that Sherlock was bored, but he was caught between wanting to scold his Master for his words and wishing they didn't have to go back.

The frown deepened. Had he said something a bit not good? Probably. He had a bad habit of it. Sometimes it was intentional, but most of the time it wasn't. “Actually, I would take one of you over a hundred of any slaves my plantation would breed if you must know. You are what is known as the rare exception John.” Sherlock sighed and shrugged. “I've said something that upset you,” he muttered though he wasn't sure what. Was it because he had mentioned slaves being sold from a family? That had been a bit insensitive most likely.

The fact that Sherlock liked him more than the rest of his slaves was flattering, and John appreciated it. "A few things Sir, but it is how you were raised and I suppose I cannot fault you on it. You've never been through what many slaves have. It is...as expected Sir." He took another bite of food so he didn't have to speak. John looked around them, and then looked at his Master. "Don't focus on it too much Sir. It doesn't matter to you too much.”

Sherlock couldn't help but smile. "You wanted to tell me off but didn't. That's good though. You are being well behaved in public and I appreciate it." He decided he should probably eat more and he pulled the plate back and resumed eating once more. "I have a tendency to say careless things without much thought on how it will affect others. I'm afraid it is something you will have to get used to or you will want to punch me in the face a lot.” He couldn't help but smirk.

John hummed his reply, finishing his food and looking back at the happy couple. Unless the woman's baby was born premature, nobody would know the wiser. Not unless they noticed how early she showed, though that wasn't odd in some women. "I rather appreciate my tongue remaining in my mouth, Sir. I have wanted to punch you in the face quite a bit but I am getting better at restraining myself, especially given that my punching arm is unavailable right now." John looked back at his Master. This was to be his life, following this mad bastard and having to remain unaffected by his words. He might have been able to have the newlywed life, but that chance was gone. Long gone. He'd take what he could get, then. He took another drink of his water and watched his Master eat.

Sherlock smirked. “If you punched me, you would lose a limb not your tongue. So, do so at your own risk. Although, I'm afraid you would be of little use to me if I took your dominant arm. It would be most inconvenient for your Master and you don't want to do that, now do you?” He had noticed John gazing at the married couple but decided not to comment on it. He finished up the food on his plate and was ready to head back upstairs and read some more until it was time for dinner. There wasn't much else to do in this town. Well, nothing that interested him anyway.

John only shook his head. In an hour or so he would most likely be happy with his Master again, but right now he was not. His brain had decided to focus on the fact that he was completely under Sherlock's control, and really should learn to deaden his individualistic urges sooner rather than later in order to remain of good use to his Master. He followed Sherlock back up the stairs and grabbed his book, setting it on the bed and then going to light the fire. He squatted in front of it for a few moments, staring at the flame and feeling the heat against his face, almost burning, before he returned to the bed. He got into his spot and waited for his Master before he settled completely.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John as they went back up to the room. He was no longer in the mood to read and he paced the room restlessly while his slave started the fire. “I'm going out. You can just stay here.” He left the room without waiting for a reply, making sure to slam the door on his way out. He didn't care if he was being a child and pouting. He left the inn, but didn't know where to go and just walked around the town without a care. Why was John being such a prat to him? His humor hadn't worked at all and it annoyed him. It shouldn't matter what some slave thought of him anyway. He walked around aimlessly until it was almost dark. He should probably get back to the inn. His mood hadn't improved at all but that stupid slave of his should eat. He growled and made his way back to their room and he opened the door to their room, looking around for John.


	9. Chapter 9

John gave his Master a quiet 'yes Sir,' when he was told to remain in the room. He had no real desire to be leaving it anyway. He settled in the bed to read, calming a bit as his Master was out and doing God knows what. But he approached a part in the story where the knight was explaining his backstory to the prince, and the prince actually understood and apologized for the slurs he'd made towards the other, and John got frustrated. He threw the book at the wall without thinking, using his left shoulder, and then growled his pain. He turned his head to look at the stitches but they were still fine. He stood up out of the bed and filled the bath, stripping and stepping in. The water wasn't warm, but John managed to fall asleep in it. He didn't wake until his Master returned, opening the door with more force than necessary. John sighed and debated staying in the tub or not.

They were both still pouting. Bloody perfect. “You should eat,” he muttered. “I'm not hungry so you can dine without me downstairs tonight.” He barely looked twice at John when he spoke to the man in the bath. He sat down on the bed, grumbling to himself and picked up the book he had been reading before lunch. He couldn't enjoy it though and he tossed it to the floor in disgust. Maybe he should have stayed out longer. He was here now though. He huffed, stretched out on the bed and turned his back to the rest of the room as he continued his childish pouting, arms crossed over his chest. He closed his eyes but he wasn't sleeping.

The slave stood slowly, careful not to slip, and pulled out the plug. He stepped out of the bath and pulled on his robe carefully. His shoulder hurt from where he had stressed it throwing his book. He almost thought about kicking it into the fire, but didn't dare. It was his book, no matter how idealistic and unrealistic it was. "Yes Sir." John picked up his Master's book from the floor and set it on the nightstand. He dressed carefully as well, ignoring his twice-bruised shoulder and hesitated. He wanted to apologize, be like a good slave, but his morals told him not to. He sighed again and turned for the door. "It's not your fault. Not completely." He whispered the words before turning and walking out of the door. It was his first time without Sherlock nearby at all, and he held the railing for all it was worth. He ordered his food, though had difficulty finding his appetite, staring at the table instead.

His fault? Of course, it wasn't his fault! It was all his stupid slave's fault! Sherlock would have yelled some obscenity or other but John had already left. He heaved a long sigh. His eyes opened and he stared angrily at the wall. He wished he had brought some tobacco to smoke. That might help calm him down. He didn't have his violin either. It just wasn't a feasible item to take while on a trip like this. He finally sat up, grabbed the book and moved over to the fire so he could read in the light better. He got warm quickly and he took his shirt off at some point. He was finally calming down but he was still brooding over the fact that John had the nerve to say any of it was his fault! His slave was the one who'd been disrespectful, the ungrateful bastard.

John could only eat a couple bites of food. His stomach hurt too much from his argument with Sherlock for him to eat more. The slave looked at the door for a few minutes. He could run. He could flee and never return, or get killed so he would never have to go back. But he knew that although they were fighting, sooner or later it would blow over and this would be no more than a bad memory. He hoped so at least. Sighing and looking at his full plate, John stood. He had been down long enough. He felt the urge to vomit but squashed it as he walked back up the stairs. He stood outside the door to the room that he and his Master shared, and stared at that as well. After a few moments, he walked in quietly and then stood by the door. "I am sorry Sir." He spoke quietly once more; his words clear but without emotion. "I should not have been affected by your words. I'll work on it for the future."

Sherlock glanced up from his book to look at John. “Good. You will do well to remember your place. Next time I will not let you off the hook for the way you acted. I found it rude and disrespectful and I will not put up with it, not even from you. I like you John but don't think my fondness will interfere with me using disciplinary action. Consider this the only warning you will get.” He probably didn't make anything better between them but, why should he? Just a stupid slave. Don't get involved. Caring wasn't an advantage. Being alone protected him. It was just better this way. He sighed at himself and stared back down at his book, but he wasn't reading anymore.

John felt his stomach turn a little more, but he only nodded. What had he expected? An apology in return? Life didn't work that way. Only ridiculous stories did. He stood by the door, hands hanging by his sides and face blank and tired. Sherlock had given him many 'only warnings', but John wasn't going to say anything. He would be a good slave from today on. No more questioning his Master, no more teasing and laughing...that would all have to go. "May I go to bed Master?" John asked, lowering his head obediently. His shoulders slumped a little. He was tired, now. Today had been good up until lunch. It would be better to get the day over with.

Sherlock had noticed the change in demeanor from John. Was his slave really asking to go bed? He didn't want just another broken thing to order around. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Don't do that, please.” He gritted his teeth and managed to mutter an apology. It wasn't something that was easy for him to do. He just wanted them to be getting along again like they were before lunch. Stupid sentiment was getting in the way again, but after everything they'd been through could he really just treat John like just another slave? John had done more for him than any slave he'd ever had in his service all his life. Maybe he had made the mistake of trying to return it but he couldn't help it. He really was rather fond of the other man. He looked up from his book to look John in the eye. “I'm sorry for being a prat.”

The first statement had made John tense. What had he done wrong now? He was behaving as a slave should, asking for permission and not taking liberties. He looked up when he heard the muttered apology, looking into his Master's eyes again. He was at first a bit nervous-good slaves avoided all eye contact. But the louder apology had his face going red and he smiled softly. "Thank you Master. I'm sorry as well...some of the things you said brought up bad memories and...well, they're all bad but...foremen can be so much worse than you, Sir. They…abuse, and for the slightest offense and I have to remind myself that your way of thought is simply how you've been raised. I know I would have wound up the same, Sir." Once the apology came out he couldn't stop speaking it seemed. His face still red, John headed for the luggage to change.

The apology had been particularly hard for him, as he had never really uttered one his life. Not even to his brother. Well, _especially_ not to Mycroft. Sherlock frowned a little but nodded. This whole fight had been over the mere mention of wanting to get a foreman? He shook his head a little at himself. “All right, then I will heed your counsel John. I will just sell a few off. I have more than I need to be honest. It will make Mycroft happy, the smug bastard.” A pause. “Do you have any other things you recommend that you would know as a slave and that I would otherwise be utterly oblivious to as a Master?”

"Treating us like we're animals isn't fun either, Sir. I understand that it is how the trade works, but it can be difficult to even want to have sex when you know your children are just going to be sold off, or you are." He changed his clothes as quickly as he could, wincing when he pulled his stitches again. "Fear tactics, as you assumed, can only work so far. Slaves work far better when they're happy. You may get some scorn from other people, but they work faster and harder when they're given a reward instead of a whipping." John moved to his Master's side and sat down across from him. "Although keeping them well fed is good, so is being protective of them." He looked at the other. "Is there anything you want to know?"

That wasn't what he was looking for but it was interesting to hear things from a slave's perspective he supposed. “I do reward good behavior and I don't punish unjustly, just...harshly.” Sherlock couldn't help but pout a little again. He had never whipped anyone for the sake of whipping them, that didn't teach anything except that anything they did was useless. It was just a necessary tool sometimes. It seemed strange to be having this conversation and he was could already hear Mycroft scowling at him in disapproval. “Like my experiments, breeding is a volunteer thing. You'd be surprised how many slaves are willing to do either just to get out of doing chores at the manor. When a mother conceives, she is given the best health care money can buy. I have a doctor on retainer for the sole purpose. I don't just lock them in a room and tell them to shag and make a baby or else. Too much stress can prevent proper performance which is the opposite of what I want. I put them in the optimal environment and then make sure the mother's are taken care of before, during and even some time after. It costs money sure, but you get the money back ten fold when the child is sold off. Sometimes you have to spend money to make money. There is a reason my brother and I are successful at what we do.” He smirked smugly but then shrugged at the question. “I don't know. Is there anything else you think I should know?”

"Selling the child, Sir. How would you feel if..." John paused, he didn't know what exactly to say. "What if...Mycroft decided to sell me? Do your slaves volunteer to be sold as well? If you are nice to your slaves you shouldn't have to fear an uprising." He yawned a bit and closed his eyes for a moment. "Or what if somebody had sold you away from your family?" John looked at his Master and leaned forward. "When it was me I was pissed, but can you imagine the disappointment and pain Sir? I can't complain if the mothers don't mind selling their children, but if you could maybe speak of us a bit more like people..." John shrugged one shoulder again.

“Mycroft can't sell you. He doesn't own you, I do. You weren't born inside the business. You were a gift from a friend, well business acquaintance really. He could no more sell you, like I could sell off his personal slave. Gerard was a gift to him just like you were to me.” Sherlock gave a slight shrug at the entire notion. He frowned though at the thought being sold off. That would be horrid and he would be a lot like John he supposed but he would choose death over servitude. He sighed. “I suppose I could try to do that,” he muttered at John's last suggestion. “To be fair though, I barely treat anyone nice. Be they free or slaves. Except for you...you are the curious exception.”

"Not the point Sir." John sighed, though he smiled a little. He looked at Sherlock in confusion at the mention of Gerard. "Who is...? Oh, Greg. If I didn't know you were intelligent I would ask if you were an idiot because you never get his name right." He shook his head and leaned back a little to lay on the floor. He was tired now, especially now. "Are you almost done reading Sir? I'm thinking sleep should be the next thing to do. I doubt you'll be reading too much more." John stretched out his right shoulder and his legs. He tapped Sherlock with his feet, looking between his legs and his Master. "I know you treat hardly anybody nicely, but you can always try Sir. Though if you threaten to cut out their tongues I might feel a bit offended."

Sherlock shrugged. “He isn't my slave and I know it starts with a 'G',” he mumbled. “John I haven't been reading, I've been talking to you.” He shut his book anyway and set it aside. “Fine, let us sleep. We can talk some more when we head out tomorrow morning. If you think you can keep up that is.” He smirked a little as he stood, giving a small groan as his joints creaked from being in a sitting position too long. He let out a laugh at the comment about the tongue. “Perish the thought of me ever threatening anyone but you with it. You are the only one who has ever really spoken to me like this. Except my brother, but he is usually condescending and sneering.”

"I was being sarcastic, obviously you've been talking to me. There's nobody else in the room for you to talk to. Do you often speak to yourself?" John asked, raising his eyebrows. He sat up and moved over to the bed, taking his place. "Will we be going to Dr. Hooper's in the morning before we leave?" He asked, wishing he could lay on his front and curl up around the pillows. Or perhaps his Master when they returned, as Sherlock always did to him. He chuckled at Sherlock's words of his tongue, rolling his eyes at his Master. "Just hurry and get in bed, Sir. It's surprisingly cold without you."

“Sometimes I do talk to myself, but where else am I going to find intelligent conversation?” Sherlock smirked but then gave a small shrug as he disrobed and got into the trousers he preferred sleeping. “Or more accurately the skull on the mantle of the fireplace. Its name is Billy. It sits next to that tongue you want to see and it is going to have company if you don't watch yourself.” The smirk returned, wider this time. He finally got into the bed and stretched out. He should be able to fall asleep easily enough, since he had walked around all afternoon and then skipped dinner. The fight had been draining as well.

"I don't know Sir, perhaps your brother?" John eyed his Master as he undressed and redressed, shifting a little so it was easier for him to get in. John lifted his good arm and then set it down just above his Master's head. They would no doubt shift some during the night so that his Master did rest on him yet again. "The day my tongue finds itself upon your mantle piece is the day you lose my delightful conversations." John yawned again, glad that the fire was the only light as he closed his eyes. "Goodnight Sir."

Sherlock scowled at the suggestion. “My brother is a pompous arse,” he muttered. He smiled at the joke, yawning a bit himself this time. “Goodnight John.” He closed his eyes and it didn't take long for him to find sleep. When he woke, he had rolled into his slave and his head was on John's shoulder. It seemed to be happening a lot lately but he didn't think too much of it. Just natural to seek warmth and comfort while sleeping he figured. He gently got up. “John, time to wake up. Breakfast first, then we will get things ready to go. We can stop by Doctor Hooper's first though.” He didn't want to but it was best just to have the stitches checked on just in case.

John fell asleep a bit slower, listening to his Master breathing. None of his other Masters had ever really listened to their slaves. Not even the ones they favored. And although his Master was a right arse and a bastard, he had listened and spoken to John to ease his fears. He fell asleep quickly once Sherlock's breathing evened out. When he woke in the morning it was to Sherlock leaning over him. John stared at him in some confusion for a few moments before realizing he was supposed to start getting up. Once he did he stood up and stared for a minute before shaking himself to wake up. His shoulder ached some, but he ignored it to change and pack and then follow his Master to breakfast.

Sherlock got out of bed, bathed quickly and then got dressed for the day. "You feel up to riding today?" Frankly he was getting tired of this town. Although he had been having strange but interesting conversations with John while here. Having skipped dinner last night, he was rather hungry. When they were both ready, he led them downstairs for food. He ordered then joined his slave at their table while he waited for them to be served. With any luck, the ride back wouldn't take as long on horseback as it had by carriage. It was all dependent on just how far John could ride per day he supposed.

"I believe so Sir." John followed his Master out and down the stairs. He was able to move his normal speed, grabbing them a seat as usual and waiting for Sherlock. He stifled a yawn, sitting there with his right elbow on the table and his chin on his hand. He saw the couple from lunch the previous day, looking elated as usual. There were a number of other people, including a couple people who looked like bounty hunters. He felt a brief rush of fear but as Sherlock sat down he calmed. "Are you all packed or should I do it when we return upstairs?"

Sherlock noticed the bounty hunters but he didn't concern himself with it too much. "Mostly packed. Just some clothes on the floor and my books need put away. So, just get those cleaned up and the horses ready. We can walk them to Doctor Hooper's house and then ride out from there." He began eating with vigor when the food came, but tried to pace himself so he didn't eat too fast least he make himself sick. "How are you feeling this morning? You look...worn and tired." He frowned a little at that as he looked over his slave with a critical eye.

"Of course, Sir. That all should be easy enough. I'll get a couple grooms to do the horses and hope Boaz doesn't kick them." John smiled a little. The horse was a bit petulant, but not the worst he'd seen. "Walking sounds good. Nothing too stressful today then." He stifled another yawn and shook his head. "No, Sir. Not too much. I'll be alright for the ride. Yesterday was a bit tiring." He smiled and didn't mention that he had not had too much to eat the previous night because he had felt like he'd be sick if he did. His Master didn't need to know. He ate his food with relish, though, enjoying the taste and knowing he'd get to see his horse as well as the manor in the next few days.

Sherlock nodded. “Good.” Things seemed much better between them this morning. “We can just ride an easy trot on the horses, so there aren't too many jolts to your shoulder.” He wanted nothing more than to get back to the manor sooner rather than later but he knew it was important for his slave's shoulder to heal properly as well. Well, to be of maximum use to him anyway. He finished off his plate quicker than usual, given how hungry he had been. “We can stop somewhere for lunch along the way, get us off the horses for a bit so we can stretch our legs.”

"A trot or a lope. I should be able to hold up well enough to handle those." John was glad to be back on good terms with his Master, as he had known he would be. He had been fully prepared to abandon all sense of himself to please the other but it appeared Sherlock wanted his entire back-talking, tongue-teasing, learning restraint self. John was quick to finish his food though not as quick as his Master. "Do you want me to ask for a lunch to go or just want to stop in a town we pass in order to sit and eat inside?" 

Sherlock gave another nod. It sounded good to him. He leaned back in his chair a bit, getting as comfortable a person could get in a stiff, wooden chair. He thought about the question before answering. “Well, if we got it to go then we could eat whenever we want and not have to rely on being in a town. That would probably be better.” He smirked slowly. “You just want to have a picnic on a sunny day with your Master, don’t you?”

That had been his precise plan. Well, not have to eat in a town was. He chuckled at Sherlock’s words. "Yes Sir. That is exactly what my plan was. I thought that getting some wine might go well with the idea. And a blanket--pink, I should think. And we could sit and stare at the clouds and imagine shapes in them and tell each other funny stories." A calm picnic really didn't sound too bad though. After a few hours ride he was sure to be tired enough for some nice food.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and gave a small snort at the mention of a pink blanket. He was particular about his wine and if they got any, it wouldn't be from here. Maybe at another shop in town they could find a fine wine of his liking. “We going to have the basket as well, in this little fantasy of yours John?” He smirked at his slave. The rest and air would do them both good though, they had spent the last few days indoors practically the entire time. The change in scenery would definitely be a welcoming sight.

"Of course. What is a picnic without a picnic basket? And flowers, embroidered napkins, and cute little wine glasses." John rolled his eyes. The idea of fresh air must have been making them especially loopy. Though Sherlock had gotten air last night when he went on his walk, John had been stuck inside for three days while he healed some. "Shall we go back up and speak further of our picnic Sir?" They had both finished their meals and it was close to time they should start to leave.

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh as John went on and on about what to take on the picnic. He stood up and stretched a bit. “You go up to the room and get things ready. Get the horses packed as well and I'll meet you out front. I'm going to see about getting us that wine. Only good wine though, I am quite picky about it. I suppose I will leave the rest of the picnic preparations in your hands since you have so many ideas about it.” He smirked at his slave before he walked outside to see if he could find a bottle of wine of his tastes. There wasn't much in the small town but there was a pub. Maybe if he was lucky it would be properly stocked. He was about to walk inside when two men stopped him, by blocking the door. He narrowed his eyes. Bounty hunters. What the hell did they want?

“Holmes, we want that mouthy slave of yours. Rumor has it, he murdered his own father and we wanna collect.”

“Rumors? You will need more than mere rumors to take my slave from me. Now get out of my wa-” Sherlock was cut off when the bigger of the two, the one who'd spoken, forced him into a post that was helping hold up the pub and hand at his throat. It had come as surprise, so he'd been caught off guard. He knew bounty hunters were just a bunch of ruffians but he didn't think they would try to kill him to take John.

John had their bags packed and loaded upon the horses within half an hour. The books and clothes were back in tightly, and he had gotten lunch from the man who ran the inn for a good price. He had even filled their canteens and wrapped the meat, rolls, and cheese very well. John thanked him and went out to the horses. He checked over their things and then stuck a knife into his boot. It was for self-defense against any wild animals they might come across. He waited five more minutes before exiting the barn to the front of the inn. His Master wasn't there, and John frowned. Sherlock had told him he'd meet him...there was a crowd gather a few stores away and John looked around and walked over. He saw his Master pressed against the post and grit his teeth, carefully pushing his way through the crowd. He was behind the two men, and he could see that his Master was not being strangled quite yet. He raised his eyes in question towards his Master, shifting his weight a little so it would be easier to grab the knife in his boot if he had to.

Sherlock didn't think they would be dumb enough to kill him, not with the growing crowd. They were just trying to intimidate him. Well, that wasn't going to work. The bigger man had a strong grip on his throat but wasn't quiet choking him, just holding him place really. He couldn't get the fingers dislodged though. John's gaze caught his and he shook his head fractionally to wave off his salve. A slight smirk etched his lips when he heard the familiar voice of Officer Donovan.

“Always in the center of trouble, why am I not surprised Mr. Holmes?” Sally gave the two bounty hunters a glare. “Not in my town boys.”

The one holding Sherlock slammed him against the post and then let go, letting the wiry man fall to his knees winded. They glared at John as they went by but disappeared with the crowd that began to disperse now that the ruckus was over.

Sherlock muttered a thanks to Officer Donovan who scowled at him and then left. He cleared his throat and stood up, dusting his clothes off indignantly. “That was unpleasant,” he muttered more to himself than anyone else around.

John wanted to get in there and attack the men holding his Master but he didn't. Sherlock hadn't called him in, and he wasn't going to be killed immediately. He watched the men, making sure they didn't hurt him too badly and was actually glad when Officer Donovan walked in to make them leave. John didn't meet their gazes as they passed, keeping his eyes on his Master. He rushed forward as soon as he could, feeling his Master gently to make sure he was alright. "Are you okay Sir? Everything else is ready to go, I just came to look for you. They didn't hurt you, did they?" John asked, leaving a hand on his master's forearm and looking up at him in concern. While they were at Molly's they should probably get Sherlock looked over as well.

Sherlock smirked and shrugged off his slave's concern. “I'm fine John, my pride is wounded more than anything. They were just trying to intimidate me to give you up. I was going to see if the pub had a bottle of wine I could buy, preferably one of a date I approve of. Then we can get the horses and walk to Doctor Hooper's.” He walked into the pub and sighed when he had to settle for wine that wouldn't be his first or even his fifth pick. It was slightly better than anything the inn had to offer though. “When we get back to the manor, I'll let you try some real wine.” He gave John a smile as he walked back to get their horses and then made his way over to Molly's house.

The slave was glad his Master was alright but he still didn't like it. He turned around to follow the bounty hunter's retreating forms when his Master went inside. He held the horses and didn't miss when one of them looked back at him and gave him the universal sign of a slit throat. He turned back to the pub, and when his Master emerged John was waiting for him patiently. He held onto Borak's reins loosely, trusting the horse not to freak and run off. They made it to Molly's in short time, and John knocked on her door. The woman opened up and looked at John and then past him to Sherlock with a smile that only got bigger.

"Oh, good, you came!" She exclaimed, ushering them in once they had tied the horses out front. "Alright John, you'll need to take off your shirt so I can examine you." John did as she told him. She frowned at the state the stitches were in, gently using her fingers to prod at his shoulder once she had washed her hands. "A bit of frustration yesterday?" She asked quietly, and John nodded.

"Books are so idealistic it's ridiculous sometimes," he answered just as quiet. Molly gave him a small smile.

"That's why they're fiction." She put a salve on the stitches to keep them moist so the skin would heal fine, and then let John put his shirt back on.

"Can you check his neck as well, Dr. Hooper? He got shoved into a pillar by some thugs earlier." John asked, looking at his Master. Molly looked at Sherlock as she washed her hands off again.

"If it is alright with him I will." And dear Lord she hoped it was because she wanted to touch that man.

Sherlock waited quietly while Doctor Hooper inspected John. He frowned a little at the look on her face when Molly noticed the stitches. Probably got irritated in their stupid argument yesterday. He scowled at his slave when he mentioned about the brief scuffle outside. “Fine, but make it quick please. I'm fine though honestly.” He just wanted to get the hell out of this town. They would need to keep an eye out the rest of the way home though. Those bounty hunters weren't going to give up so easily. This entire trip had seemed to be one disaster after another, but frankly he enjoyed it all. The danger. The excitement. The adrenaline rushes he got from it all.

John barely suppressed a smile when he saw how eagerly Molly approached Sherlock. He fixed his shirt and watched her feel his neck, carefully checking the bruises, and maybe lingering a bit longer than she needed to. He cleared his throat after a moment when she lingered a bit too long. Molly blushed and stepped back, clearing her throat.  
"Uh, yes, sorry. You're all good, Sherlock, just a bit of bruising but you should be good. Don't yell too much and you'll be good as new in no time." She smiled brightly at Sherlock.

John stood. They could finally leave. Thank God. They could get back to the manor and a real bed and the other slaves. John mentally made a face though his own was carefully composed.

"As for John, he's healing fine, but nothing too strenuous for two weeks. So, nothing heavier in his arm than a stack of...Oh, ten books? After that, raise the weight slowly so it doesn't rip his wound open again,” she instructed Sherlock.

Sherlock felt a bit uncomfortable with how long Doctor Hooper checked his neck, but he stayed quiet and motionless until she was finished. “You hear that John? Ten books, wait until you see the size of my books my personal library in the den.” He gave his slave a smirk. “Come on. Let's go then.” He turned his attention back to Molly. “Thank you for everything you have done for us Doctor Hooper.” He gave her his best polite smile and then left the house. He mounted his horse and waited for John to be ready and began heading out of town.

"I think she means ten books as in the weight of a small dog or large cat, Sir." John gave a shake of his head. He thanked the blushing Molly and went outside as well, finding a rock to help himself up onto Borak. He steered the horse with his legs and right hand, leaving his left in his lap. "Lead the way Sir." He followed Sherlock as he set out with a small smile. They were finally going back, and his father was gone, and apart from the bounty hunters and last night they were fine. John kept himself alert as they left town, glad to see the stream of people slowing down the further out they were because he didn't have to lower his head so much.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He had known what she meant but didn't bother to press the issue. He led them out of town, down the main road that would lead them back home. “Keep an eye out. Those bounty hunters may try and come after us still.” He kept the pace of the horses easy, even though he wanted to urge them quicker. He couldn't rush things, just in case. Now he just had to think of what to do with his slave for another two weeks. Simple chores would probably be fine. Cleaning and the like. That wouldn't be too strenuous. “My brother's slave should have picked up your horse for us on the way but we can stop just to make sure whenever we get there if you want.”

John grinned at his Master's back, slowly relaxing into the ride. "We can just check Sir. Better to be safe than miss him." Their pace was nice and didn't jolt his shoulder too badly. He couldn't help but look around again and take in the homes he had once manned. He was following the path of them again, this time back to where he stayed now. When they settled into silence, John began to sing under his breath again. He thought he heard hoof beats behind them a few times but never saw anything. After half an hour of singing, John grinned. "Master, what do you call a dog with no legs?" He urged his horse to go a little faster so he could get a bit closer to Sherlock.

Sherlock didn't mind the silence between them. It meant he could pay attention to what was going on around them and hopefully spot any more dangers they may run into. He arched a brow at John's riddle. “I imagine it doesn't matter since it wouldn't be coming when called no matter what.” He shrugged a little, not sure if that was supposed to be the answer or not. It was just the logical explanation. “It will be midday soon, so we can stop and have that ridiculous picnic of yours whenever you are ready.”

John chuckled at Sherlock getting the answer and remaining unamused. "I'll look around for a good place for it Sir." He did look around, trying to see if he could find any places where they could stop for lunch but not seeing any yet. "Sir, do you know how to keep an idiot busy?" John asked with a small smirk, and then to his right saw a good clearing. He tapped his Master and pointed, turning his horse's head toward it. It appeared as though the trees in the clearing had been cut down for a home but all that was left was the shell of said home and a grassy clearing. "I suppose here is alright." Though he didn't get off his horse just yet. He looked toward Sherlock and waited for the okay.

Sherlock nodded and looked around a bit as well. "Does the one next to me count?" He muttered, clearly not amused by his slave. He followed after John and dismounted his horse when they came to a stop. The tactical position wasn't his favorite but they should be all right if they paid attention to their surroundings. "Get lunch ready." He pulled out the mediocre wine he had bought and unscrewed the cork. He took a curious drink. It was decent enough he supposed. "Not bad. Definitely had better though."

John rolled his eyes at Sherlock's response, carefully dismounting. He pulled out a blanket from behind Borak's saddle, the wrapped food, and a couple napkins, though not embroidered. "I thought that wine glasses would be a bit too fragile for the trip, not to mention they didn't have any, so I got two mugs instead." John gave a shrug, pulling out two cups for their drinks. He spread out the blanket and then set the food, napkins, and cups on top. After that was done he pulled out two guns from Borak's saddle bags and offered one to his Master. "I hope the picnic is to your liking Sir." He gave a brief look around. So far, they were alone. "I haven't had one since I was a child, so this is very excellent. Especially compared to those." John took a sip of the wine and then bit into his roll. He hummed a moment and then looked at his Master. "Is your food alright?"

Sherlock smirked as he nodded. It was nice to have something different than what the inn had to offer, which was pretty limited really. "It is fine, thank you. Maybe I should make you the head chef when we get home." The smirk returned and he resumed eating. He planned on using John for manual labor at the manor, to optimize the use out of this slave. A body guard when they left, since trouble seemed to find them at every turn lately. He actually hoped to find more and planned on scheduling more business trips.

"Oh God, no." John said immediately. "Don't do that, that's stupid. I can make a few things but only very simple things, like sandwiches and peeling fruits." He smiled, though, and took another bite of his sandwich. He was looking forward to tasting more of the food he'd had, when soup was not forced on him, the first two weeks he was around. He was curious as to how many duties he would have once his arm was healed, and if he'd be working with anybody else. It didn't take long for him to finish his sandwich and drink, feeling a bit lazy thanks to the full stomach and bit of wine he'd had, though he was still on alert.

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh. “I wasn't being serious John. I actually have a master chef as a slave. She fell into debt and I paid for it. Now she works for me for free until her debt to me is done.” He smirked at that because the woman was going to be working for him a long time. Gambling problems will do that to a person though, especially if they wasted their entire life savings. He finished his food and then the wine. “I'll probably just have you do manual labor around the manor and you will be in charge of keeping my room in order and clothes clean, since you are my personal slave. Bodyguard as well, when we leave the manor.”

"Oh, thank god." John sighed and then chuckled. "What is she like? How did you come by her?" Jon asked curiously, wanting to lean back in the tall grass but knowing that they'd have to leave soon in order to continue their journey. It was a fine day for traveling, truth be told. "I haven't even seen your room and I am already fearing for my life." John spoke with a smile, knowing that his Master's room was bound to be messy. "Oh, will you be leaving the manor more often then Sir?" He perked up at the sound of that, glad to be of more use than just cleaning around the house. Perhaps he would have the chance to spar with Sherlock as well if he was to stay fit to guard him.

“She has a gambling problem, wasted her life's savings and money she didn't have in a card game. Fell into debt, I paid it off in exchange for her working for me for free until the debt is paid back by her services. Actually, my room is cleaned periodically, just not often. It is my den you should be worried about. Its where I keep a lot of things.” Sherlock smirked a little and then nodded. “Yes, I have decided to travel more. Maybe have some more adventures if we keep running into trouble like we have this trip.” The smirk got bigger. It faded soon though and he sighed softly. “We should probably get going. I'm going to relive myself, pack up and get ready to go.” He walked off to piss in some bushes and then moved back over to the horses.

"How much longer does she have until it's paid off?" John asked as he stood and cleaned up their items, wrapping the leftover rolls and cheese again. All the meat had been eaten, and John was glad to see that it wouldn't be wasted then. He rolled it all up in the blanket and put it on the back of Borak's saddle again. "In all honesty Sir, I hope that the trouble we run into does not contain you getting sick and then my getting shot every time we go out." John was glad to see a real smile on his Master's face instead of his usual smirk. He went to relieve his bladder on the other side and then walked over to a stump to get on Borak. "Ready Sir."

Sherlock shrugged as he thought about the question. “Several years, I'd have to check the books to give you an exact number of days.” When John was ready he got up on his horse and led them back to the road so they could continue along their journey. “Since I am going to have you as a body guard, what kind of training in fighting, if any, do you have? You seemed capable enough during the ambush.” Really, he didn't trust any of his other slaves to be any sort of guard for him. John seemed to actually care about his well-being, which was a little strange to him but also a relief that he had someone he could count on.

John hummed his response, checking over his shoulder as they got on the road again. He wondered if he would last a number of years in his Master's house as well, and hoped he would. He listened to his Master, feeling a bit relaxed and not at all bothering his shoulder at all. "I have the type that I taught myself. A couple Masters thought they could make me into their guard slave, but I only completed a little before I tried to off them for one reason or another." John shrugged. "I'm well enough at keeping myself safe. I've never actually had to protect anyone else though."

Sherlock nodded at John's word. “I know basic self-defense really, just from knowing anatomy and pressure points on the body. Hopefully, we will skip the step where you try and kill me.” He smirked a little. “It would be highly inconvenient for me if you did.” He was fairly confident his slave wouldn't try that, which was why he was trusting John to be a bodyguard in the first place. “You were ready to do so when those bounty hunters had me by the throat. You did well to wait and see, rather than just act rashly. Self-control is important in a job like that.”

"I'd like to learn where those are, if you wouldn't mind lending me books or teaching me Sir." John grinned at his Master with his face turning a bit red. "I had my chances to kill you, I think doing it now would be worse than counterproductive." He was glad that there had been no sight of the two bounty hunters from earlier, since his Master spoke of them. "I figured that I am in enough shit as it is, what with Officer Donovan and bounty hunters already after me. I don't need their friends or people in town doing it as well."

“Of course.” Sherlock nodded again. He laughed a little. “Yes, I suppose so. Although, I feel like Officer Donovan would give you pass and consider it something beneficial to the rest of humanity. My slaves would probably herald you a hero. The only person might care is my brother, considering what happened to our parents.” Damn it. He hadn't meant to talk about that at all. Hopefully John wouldn't ask about it. If his slave did, he would just brush it off or be as vague as possible about it. He sighed at his thoughts, a frown on his lips now.

John grimaced. He didn't particularly care for Officer Donovan. She was brash and really quite annoying. She had no sense of boundaries when it came to accusing his Master it seemed. John held his breath against rude language that he could use to describe exactly what Sherlock's slaves and Officer Donovan could do for him instead of praising him. He raised his eyebrow at the words of what happened to his parents, and turned to his Master curiously. "What happened to them?" He asked predictably, like all people do when they hear of something bad happening to a person.

Of course, John asked. It was just human nature after all. Sherlock sighed and was quiet a long time. “They were murdered.” He had decided to go with a vague answer than to explain it. “Killer or killers were never caught but my brother and I are doing our own investigation into it. No, I will not tell you the details. It is between Mycroft and I.” John would probably hear about it from others slaves at the manor really but it would mostly be gossip and rumors without very little facts being involved. It wasn't something he or his brother really discussed with anyone.

"Oh. I see." John said shortly, turning forward again. After a few minutes he spoke again. "You know, my father was murdered." He coughed again, knowing it was a bad joke but it was all he had. "If the bounty hunters do show up do we run or fight sir?" He asked, trying to move past the conversation of Sherlock's dead parents. Though now he was curious. He would ask the slaves, and perhaps when he was better he might pretend to really be among them and question them. They tended to trust those they thought understood their plight. With John's wound, they would think that Sherlock had shot him, and with any luck trust him and speak to him.

Good. At least John didn't pry further. Sherlock shot his slave a dark look at the next comment and thought about spurring Boaz ahead to pout a little. However, he didn't and instead shrugged at the question. “It depends, on how many there are. If there are only two like last time, we should be able to fight them off. Any more than that, I don't want to take any chances. You have a bad shoulder, which could put us at a disadvantage pretty quickly under the right circumstances. I suspect they won't be the coordinated though. The more that work together, the more they have to split amongst themselves. Bounty hunters usually hunt alone from what I've observed in the past but I suppose they do pair up from time to time as they did back in town.”

"I'm not sure if you've noticed but we have a few coming in behind us. They have been there since a little after we finished lunch. Should we stay or run?" John asked, looking behind them. There appeared to only be three, but John would not be surprised if more showed up, though he certainly hoped none did. "Did I give you a gun or Sir? I thought I had, but I could be wrong. I'm sometimes wrong, though not too often." He still had the knife in his boot, though he did have a gun strapped to his saddle as well.

“I knew we were being followed.” Sherlock frowned as he thought a moment. “Let's see if we can outrun them. If not and they start closing in, try to find good defensible location for us to use.” He urged Boaz along at a sprint. “Yes, you did.” He figured the bounty hunters would come after them sooner rather than later and wait until they were out of town to try something like this. He just hadn't anticipated greedy idiots to try and work together to take them down. Maybe even idiots did smart things from time to time. If they could make it to the next town, they would be fine he figured. At least for a little while until they were out in the open again.

John almost nodded before realizing his Master would not be able to see him. He squeezed his legs onto Borak's sides, having him follow Boaz quickly. He checked behind them to check the bounty hunters, noticing that their horses seemed to be gaining. "I'm going to shoot, Sir." John said as he unbuckled his gun from the saddle. He aimed behind them, wincing as he held onto the reins and horn of the saddle with his bad hand, and sent off a shot in front of where their horses were running. The dirt shot up and the horses balked and reared, unseating two of the men and causing the third's horse to flee into the woods. Four more men had to stop for the horses, and John reclipped his gun to the saddle. "That should buy us some time, right Sir?"

Sherlock nodded at what his slave said but didn't bother to look back when he heard the gun go off, and over the pounding the hooves under him he didn't hear the commotion. At John's question though, he briefly glanced behind him to see what had happened and he smirked a little. “Well done John.” He continued to have Boaz go as fast as the horse could go. “How far do you think the next town is? If we could get there, we should be okay until we begin traveling again. However, I have some ideas on how to deal with them before we leave the next town.” He gave his slave a wide grin.

John smiled happily at his Master, glad for the praise. He knew that as soon as they slowed his shoulder would hurt a lot. But now, with the adrenaline and fear and excitement he could barely feel it. He kicked Borak once and tried to keep his legs from moving too much. "At this pace, it shouldn't be too much farther. An hour at the pace we had been going, half an hour or less this quickly." John checked behind them. Nobody was coming yet. It was then that John half wished to have the carriage to make the hunters run into again. John looked ahead of them, seeing the party decline and in the close distance the next town. "Oh yes Sir. We're close."

Sherlock glanced behind them when the town came into view, just to make sure they still weren’t being pursued. "We can slow down a bit but still keep a fast gait." He pulled on the reigns lightly and Boaz reduced in speed some. "When we get to the inn, see if they have something cold to put on your shoulder. I can pay one of the workers to get our luggage up to the room. Try to avoid using it the remainder of the day." When they got close enough to the town he simply had his horse walk normally and found the inn they had stayed at last time with ease.

John was a bit disappointed that they couldn't get any further that day but he knew his shoulder would be glad for it. He didn't even have to use his reins to slow Borak down, he simply followed Boaz's lead. "Yes Sir. We should be home tomorrow then, correct?" The town was quiet when they went in, though John figured it probably had been the last time as well and he was simply used to issues in town now. He dismounted Borak with a hiss as the impact of his feet on the ground jarred his shoulder.

Sherlock nodded. "As long as we aren't delayed any further, then we should be." He dismounted and went inside to pay for their room. He didn't see the point in getting two since they had both gotten comfortable sleeping in the same bed together already. He paid someone to take luggage upstairs and gave the room key to John. "I am going to do a bit of shopping but I shouldn't take too long. Just go on up to the room and take care of that shoulder."


	10. Chapter 10

"Yes Sir. You be careful shopping. Last time you did that you wound up pressed to a post with a hand around your neck." John put his hand on his Master's arm gently for a moment before heading into the inn. He got some chilled meat for his shoulder and headed up to their room. He settled into the bed and put the meat on his shoulder, pulling out his book on horses to read and leaving the fiction one packed. He wasn't in the mood for foolish wishes. Maybe at a later date, he'd quit reading fiction but some of it could still be enjoyable. Next time he would find a nice romance with a man and a woman instead of two men. That was bound to be better and less gut wrenching.

Sherlock smirked when told to be careful but it turned into a genuine, albeit small smile, from the brief touch on his arm. No one had shown any sort of concern for him really besides maybe family. It was different but nice. "I'll be fine John." He went to the general store and bought various items he thought would be useful in delaying the bounty hunters further, should they continued to be pursued. He went back to the inn, a brown paper bag in each hand. He went upstairs to the room and set the bags down on the floor.

It didn’t take long for John to fall asleep. He had the meat on his shoulder and the book in his hand, on his stomach, and he was leaning to one side. He had fallen asleep without realizing it so the book was open. When his Master came into their room, John woke up. He blinked himself awake and looked at Sherlock. "Oh, hello Sir. Shopping went well? No attempts on your life? What did you get?"

Sherlock hadn't meant to wake John but when he heard his slave, he looked over to the bed. “Just some things to slow down the bounty hunters if they come into town. I plan on sabotaging their equipment, maybe their horses before we leave tomorrow. Not too difficult to do. I'll make sure to wake up early when most of the town is still asleep. And no, no trouble. For once. Its...almost disappointing.” He gave a small grin. They'd had a light lunch, just some sandwiches and cheese. He was ready for dinner. It should be served soon. “Hungry?”

John slowly pushed himself up as his Master spoke, putting the book to one side and leaning forward with his hand over the meat. "Sounds like fun. Letting their horses loose and cutting their saddle cinches?" John asked with a grin. He had actually successfully killed a master by cutting his cinch carefully. His horse, a temperamental stallion, had decided to crow hop after going over a fence and it had ripped completely. John hadn't been blamed, since he didn't work in the stables. "Only you would find peace disappointing Sir." Though John had to admit he wasn't very far behind. "Indeed. Lunch seems like an eternity ago." He stood and smiled at his Master.

Sherlock smiled, pleased that John was following his train of thought. Most didn't keep up with him but his slave seemed to be doing so just fine. Well, on some things anyway. “Yes, exactly.” He gave a smirk. “Yes, well I do like a bit of danger in my life. This trip with you is one of the most exciting things I've ever done.” His genuine smile returned for a moment. Good. John was ready to eat as well. “Great, we can eat downstairs like we did at the last inn.” He looked his slave over for a moment. “How is your shoulder feeling?”

The slave followed his Master to the door, looking up at him. "Well, I think I have given you a fair amount of danger in this trip alone Sir." John gave a slightly toothy grin. "I should hope this has been exciting. It has been for me." John was glad to see his Master's real smile emerge. He liked it, and thought it made his Master seem more approachable. Almost innocent, until he opened his mouth sometimes. "My shoulder aches. No doubt it will be painful in the morning. I will be all right, though." John tried to give his Master a reassuring smile.

Sherlock laughed as he went down the stairs. “Yes, you have. Since I like it so much, I will be a forgiving Master and not take it on you later.” He returned John's grin. He nodded as his slave spoke about his shoulder and then left John at a table as he went to go get them dinner. He returned to the table, sitting opposite of his slave while he waited for their food to arrive. “Hopefully we won't have to ride too hard tomorrow and save your shoulder some jolts and pain.”

"I shall sing your praises of how forgiving you are." John teased as they went down the stairs. The fact that his Master was smiling so happily and easily at him made John feel just as jubilant and even a bit accomplished. John looked around the inn as he waited for his Master to return, noting a couple curious faces but nobody too invasive. He turned his head to Sherlock when he came back. "Yes, that would be welcome. We were good until the hunters came upon us." John sighed.

Sherlock enjoyed the dangerous situations but he also knew that it could only go so far, before things got too out of hand. So, instead of worrying about being pursued by the bounty hunters it was best to just try and take care of them here while in town. “After we eat, we can look around for a bit and see if they followed us here. If so, we can do a little bit of reconnaissance on where they are keeping their things and horses.” It didn't take long for the food to arrive and he began eating immediately.

"They're likely to have stayed on the outskirts, yeah? Not too many towns like bounty hunters, and only the rough inns would let them stay." John thought of the men who had chased them their first night out and Sherlock's brilliant but stupid action with the carriage and the horses. He ate a bit slower than Sherlock, letting the flavors dissolve onto his tongue. The ale in this inn was a lot better than the ale in the other inn they'd been at. John noticed them getting a couple stares but ignored it.

“Yes, I would think so. Thus, the recon work.” Sherlock gave a slight nod and a grin as he continued to eat. The ale was a slight improvement but it still wasn't a preferred drink of his. He didn't really seem to care about the stares. They had gotten them on the way, so it wasn't surprising to him that they were getting them on the way back as well.

John nodded as he ate and listened to his Master. Of course, he had already thought of that. He wasn't stupid, God no. John finished his food quietly, his rumbling stomach quickly dying down as it began to break down the food. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, watching his Master eat. "Do you have a favorite food sir?" John couldn’t help but be curious.

Sherlock blinked in confusion at the seemingly random question from his slave. He shrugged and then shook his head. “Not really. It is all just transport to me. So is sleeping. Sometimes I go a few days without either when I get focused on something. Some food tastes better than others I suppose but it isn't something I put much thought into. I've needed both for this trip considering all the trouble we seem to find together.” He gave John a small grin.

John nodded, now determined to try and discover which foods his Master liked best. He'd ask the chef when they returned to the manor. His jaw dropped open as his Master spoke. "Days? Lord above, Master, that type of dedication is quite impressive." And also, very bad for his body. When one ran a horse for days on end with little stop or rest or food it didn't take too long for it to drop dead. He was a little surprised his Master was still alive. "Well I'm glad to see it, Sir." John smiled back.

Sherlock smirked a little and then shrugged. “I usually forget when I'm busy and focused. Like with experiments or on the rare chance I get to work on a case.” He had already finished off his food but didn't bother to finish the ale. He had better tasting wine up in his room he could drink later if he really wanted to anyway. “Ready to be nosy and see what those no-good bounty hunters are up to?” He hadn't seen any in the town which either meant they were staying on the outskirts like his slave said or they hadn't been pursued. He found the former more likely than the latter.

John made a note to himself to always be around his Master and make sure he ate when he was forgetting to. No wonder he was so skinny and fell violently sick so easily. He wasn't keeping his body healthy. "I'm eager to see you on one of these cases, Sir. You've already impressed me with being able to read people in a dining area. To see it on a body will be impressive." John gave a small grin. It grew when his Master brought up the hunters. John still had his knife in his boot and if need be could use it while they were out. "Absolutely Sir. I find that I dislike it when people try to kill me for money.”

Sherlock got up from the table. “Yes, and being killed just because I'm in the way would be most annoying. You know how I feel about people touching my slaves, imagine how I feel when they want to kill one.” A small smirk. “Especially if I am particularly fond of said slave. Not to mention the inconvenience it would cost me.” Another grin to show he was joking before he finally began walking out of the inn and he glanced around a bit before heading out of town the way they had come in. He kept alert as he walked along cautiously.

John followed him, slowly for a few steps and then he was right on his Master's heels. He chuckled at Sherlock said being killed because he would be in the way was annoying. Only he would say such a thing. John felt a thrill run through him at Sherlock's words of being fond of him and the smile. "I'm rather fond of you as well Sir, and if anybody hurt you I would be quite upset." He wasn't certain if Sherlock heard him or not but it was okay. He didn't need to hear him. John was directly behind Sherlock as they left, keeping a lookout behind and around them to make sure they weren't snuck up on.

Sherlock had heard John say something but he wasn't really listening anymore. He was concentrating on being quiet and looking for the bounty hunters. He stopped after a moment and just listened before deciding on where to go next. He was fairly confident the voices he had heard had come from the east. He didn't plan on any sort of confrontation, it was best to stay hidden and figure out their numbers and where their supplies and horses were located. Then in the early morning he would come back when they would be tired, slow and most likely sleeping to go about with his plan.

John held his breath when he heard the voices. Sherlock must not have heard him because he didn't say anything. John looked around the corner as they came upon the inn where the hunters were and saw them laughing in the windows. The light inside was dim and the hunters were little more than shadows, but John could see their outlines. "Shall we wait a few minutes or creep up now Sir?" He asked quietly, looking up at his Master. Sherlock looked good outlined by the faint light, but John kept his mind off of that. He didn't need such a dangerous distraction, especially right now.

Sherlock held up a finger at John in answer to the question. He was watching and studying the bounty hunters for a moment. Getting to know them in his deductions before he did any sort of action. When he was ready, he nodded and led them to where the horses were likely to be kept. There were some stable hands inside. They could be taken care of easily enough, with money anyway. That's all what people seemed to care about the most. Maybe it was because he had so much he just didn't really care about it. It made life easier of course but it wasn't something he concerned himself with too much.

John shut his mouth to wait. He followed just as quietly. As they approached the stables John took notice of the grooms. They would be easy enough to pay off, especially in a work place like this. No doubt their pay was horrible. He turned to his Master, wondering what their next plan was. They had found where the hunters were staying, and Sherlock had said he would be coming back later to do some sabotage. He once again looked to his Master for instruction on what they were to do next.

Sherlock paid the boys off in the stable off and began going through things curiously, but put everything back the way he found it. He could work with this easily enough. “Okay. I'm ready to go back,” he uttered to John and then made his way out of stables and back toward the inn they were staying at in town. When it was safe to speak normally again, he did so. “Pretty sure my plan will work. I'll come back in the early morning when it is still dark.” He didn't plan on sleeping and leaving his slave behind, though he doubted John would like that plan.

Although the stable boys were in with them, John kept watch as well. He didn't trust them as far as he could throw them, paid or no. He didn't know what the bounty on his head was, but if they knew they would surely tell the hunters. He followed after Sherlock with a glare at the boys and hurried to keep up with his Master. "What are we going to do then Sir?" John asked, hearing and ignoring the 'I' he had heard in Sherlock's voice.

“ _We_ aren't doing anything. You will be staying at the inn when I go out. That isn't a request John.” Sherlock looked over at his slave and gave a stern look. “It is an order I expect you to follow.” Usually he had no problem telling a slave what to do but it wasn't a card he really liked playing with John he realized. Hopefully his slave wouldn't argue too much or at all. When they reached the inn, he went straight up to their room and began preparing things for tomorrow morning.

"But Sir! What if you get caught?" He argued, and then shut his mouth stubbornly when Sherlock said it was an order. He wished his arm was working correctly because then he could wrap himself around Sherlock and prevent him from leaving alone. He would follow orders, though he didn't want to. Besides, his Master had said John was staying at the inn while he left. If he woke up when his Master left, he could still do a couple things with their own luggage. He narrowed his eyes at his Master, looking down when they entered the inn so they didn't draw more stares. Slaves were supposed to be emotionless. When they got back to the room John went and sat on the bed, watching his Master and not going to help.

Sherlock scowled at the momentary protest but didn't say anything else about it. He ignored John just staring at him while he worked. “And I'm supposed to be the pouting child,” he muttered but didn't bother to look up from where he was sitting on the floor. He sighed after awhile and finally glanced up to his slave. “Things are likely to go smoother if only one person goes. Easier to hide and no one else to worry about while there. I can't let human error get in the way. Obviously, you can't go out alone in the middle of the night like that so it has to be me. It is better for both of us, if you stay here John.” He wasn't sure he would be able to reason with his slave but he tried nonetheless.

John didn't say anything while Sherlock packed, watching him. When his Master spoke, John looked at his feet, kicking them out a little. He hated that his Master was being reasonable and logical. It angered him because he wanted to have a reason to be angry but he couldn't, not when everything Sherlock said made sense. He sighed irritably and put himself into the bed on his back. "I know Sir, but I don't like it. I don't like it when you could be hurt and I can't do anything to stop it. I know I'm not that helpful right now, but I could still help a little."

At least John understood but obviously didn't like it. Sherlock couldn't promise everything would be fine either. Things could go horridly wrong at any moment, he knew that but that's what made it exciting. “Look, if I'm not back in an hour and half then you can start to worry and come look for me. Just take care when you do so. That early in the morning without your Master around could get you in trouble with some people.” He stood from the floor slowly, once he had everything ready. He walked over to the bed to lay down next to John for awhile. He had some time to kill before it was time to leave. “Should you find something has happened, don't be stupid and rush in. Go find a copper for help. I'm sure they would like to have a Holmes be in debt to them, nearly anyone does.” Being rich and powerful had its perks at times he supposed but other times it was just annoying.

John sighed again, but he knew he wouldn't stop Sherlock even if he could. If he could be more careful and quiet he would simply follow after but no doubt he would be seen by his Master and punished if he did. "An hour and a half. And then I will be on the trail after you, Sir, and nobody shall know any better. And if I am caught I will tell them I was sleepwalking or some other such ridiculousness. They will believe it, without a doubt. The dark morning and people are rather stupid sometimes." He turned towards his Master when he laid down beside him. He looked at his Master and stared at him a bit longer. "If you get yourself injured, Sir, I will be very upset with you. No doubt your brother will be upset with me as well if you're injured." John thought that if his Master took too long to return he would find a copper before he found Sherlock just in case. "I certainly hope that Officer Donovan did not follow us to this town as well."

Sherlock grinned at John a little. "You know, for an ordinary person, you aren't as dumb as one would think." It was a compliment of sorts, at least coming from him it was. He put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. "I'm not going to be able to sleep but you should try to get some. We still have a decent day’s ride ahead of us tomorrow."  He may try and nap a little when he got back from sabotaging the bounty hunters.

John rolled his eyes affectionately; well, as affectionately as he could. "Yes, well. Thank you, I think." He turned back to stare at the ceiling as well. He was eager for the day that he could sleep on his side and stomach again without feeling like his arm was going to fall off. "I'm going to try, but you wake me up when you leave, okay?" John asked, turning his head a bit to look at Sherlock. He really was worn out from the day, but he'd taken a nap earlier.

Sherlock nodded. “Okay.” He just laid on the bed, without moving too much and staring at the ceiling until it was dark for several hours and the inn was relatively quiet. He sat up slowly. “John, I'm going out now. I'll be back soon.” He gave a reassuring smile even though it was dark and probably couldn't be seen anyway. He left the room, picking up the things he would need. He walked through the silent town, trying his best to not look suspicious or up to no good. He went to the stables where they visited earlier.

Something felt off, the horses seemed a bit nervous and that was never a good thing in still and quietness. He was about to leave just in case, when he turned around and ran into someone. Shit. The boys in the stable must have ratted them out after they left. Took his money and from the bounty hunters. He tried to run but there were too many of them. He took a couple down with him, before he was overwhelmed and forced to his knees, with his hands pinned behind his back painfully. They questioned him about John but all he would was spit or curse at them, sometimes even both. It resulted in getting punched a lot, mostly his torso but sometimes his face as well, and at some point he could taste the metallic taste of blood in his mouth when he spit. When they realized he wouldn't give them anything, they must have got bored because they threw him out of the stables with a laugh and he landed unceremoniously face first in the dirt. God, he hurt. So much for being home soon. He wouldn't be able to ride a horse very well, hell trying to stand was quite the feat. He sighed and just laid there, closing his eyes to just rest for a moment but ended up passing out from the pain.

John had been dozing lightly when Sherlock left. He woke up when his Master spoke, and then sat up when he walked out the door. John busied himself with making sure their luggage was packed tightly and ready to go the next day. He kept an eye on the clock on the wall, and began to worry when his Master had not shown up after an hour. He grabbed the guns and left five minutes earlier than the half hour Sherlock had told him to wait, not caring if he got in trouble, his Master wouldn't know. He hurried down the stairs with his light jacket, walking out into the chilly early morning air. He couldn't see his Master coming back, and so he did what he had said and found a copper. He spoke to the man about worrying for Sherlock, using the image of a consort boy again instead of a slave, and told the man that his man had gone out looking for something and had said he'd be less than an hour, but it was an hour and a half later and he still wasn't back. The other man followed him and John led him on a curious length through the town, though he knew where his Master would be he didn't want to give it away.

When they reached the inn where the bounty hunters had stayed John saw the still form on the ground and rushed over to it with the officer behind him. "Oh no, God dammit Sir." His hands fluttered nervously over Sherlock's body for a moment before steadying and turning him slowly onto his back. His face was bloody and bruised and John felt anger rising in his stomach. He could hear dim laughter from the stables and John waited until the officer had left to fetch a doctor before venturing into the barn. He was quiet as he did so, and glad to see that there were quite a few men with bruises, bite marks, and lacerations. They noticed him after a few moments and advanced until John pulled one gun up and leveled it at one of the hunter's head calmly.

They froze, then. John took a deep breath, feeling enraged but calm. "You did something very bad. You hurt my Master. I know why you are after me. I am here to say it is true. You can't report me, you are bounty hunters and nobody will believe you. However, I'm certain you've heard of the bodies on the way here. Eight of them? I won't state anything officially, but that is nothing compared to what I will do to you if you come after us again." One of the hunters moved toward him and John lifted the other gun. No more steps were taken. "I dare you to trail us again. Because if you do, not a single one of you will ever step foot in another town. You will be buried like the dogs you are, three feet down and just rotted enough for the foxes and wild dogs to get you." He could hear the other men approaching his Master and John, having already pulled the hammers back, fired two shots. One nicked a man's ear, and the other cut the side of another's head. "I don't miss." John ran out of the stables and managed to look haggard enough to point the officer toward the stable, claiming that he had been dragged in and shot at. The officer went in and John heard a loud discussion as the doctor and a number of other men picked up his Master and took him away. John led them to the inn where they stayed and demanded that Sherlock be left with him, and they could administer care from his room. He kept Sherlock's hand in his own, making sure that his Master was okay by keeping his fingers over his pulse.

Sherlock didn't wake until the day was almost over, his body trying to repair the damage done by forcing him to sleep. He groaned, body aching pretty much all over and his eyes fluttered open slowly. It didn't surprise him that John was nearby. His slave had probably been fretting over him for however long he had been out. He was back in their room, on the bed. It was dark in the room except for the flickering fire. “Looks like I got in a bit of trouble.” He tried to laugh but it hurt too much so he cut it short. “I'm fine now, but we should probably wait another day until we try leaving. They were waiting for me when I went back, ambushed. Think those boys from the stables ratted us out.”

John had busied himself with caring for Sherlock and making sure his bandages, the surprising few that were needed, were changed twice before he woke. John was fearing he wouldn't wake when Sherlock finally stirred. He turned to look at the other and glared at him, sniffing and going to tend the fire before speaking. "A bit of trouble, yes, you could say that." He growled, stabbing the fire with the poker to move the wood and open up more for flame. "And you are _not_ fine Sir. You got the horseshit beat out of you." He finished and went back to stand by his Master, gritting his teeth and kneeling by the bed. "I told you I would be very cross with you if you wound up injured. I am. I am very, _very_ cross with you, Sir. If I could I would be tying you to Boaz right now and taking you back. But you're right, you need another day." John gave one short but vicious stab with his finger. "This is what happens when you don't take me along. You are never doing something like this again so long as I am around." He couldn't promise that, or enforce it, but it gave him a relief to say. "I thought that you would not be waking up, Sir. It's been almost the whole day."

Sherlock would have rolled his eyes, but one was bruised quite a bit. Probably black and blue as well from the feel of things. He figured John would scold him for being a stubborn git but he hadn't expected one of his wounds to be jabbed and he cringed but didn't make any other sign of pain. “Fine. I guess. If I am going to have you be my body guard I should start taking you into dangerous situations with me.” He had thought something like this would happen possibly, just not this bad. Taking John would have gotten his slave killed and he didn't want that. He didn't bother to try and sit up and so he just laid on the bed, trying not to move too much.

"Yes, you should. I may have an injured shoulder but I can still shoot and fight. I can still help." John kneeled on the floor. When his knees began to ache, he stood and grabbed one of Sherlock's books. "I hope your brother doesn't kill me for allowing you to get injured." He sighed, though he was being sarcastic. He crawled over his Master's legs carefully, almost smiling at how similar this was to just a few days ago. "We still have about an hour or two before dinner is served. So, you can read, or I can read to you. If you want to read I can prop you up against the headboard." John's movements were still a bit tense with anger, but he was a bit pleased. Sherlock would not be doing this again, with any luck. At least, not without John by his side. The slave was a bit tired, having been up since his Master left and only dozing a bit before then, but he had stayed awake to make sure his Master didn't decide to depart his body during the night.

“Mycroft would probably just blame me and tell me I deserve it for being an idiot.” Sherlock gave a very small shrug, not trusting himself to move too much. “Perhaps you should read to me, not sure my body would appreciate moving even if it is just to sit up.” When it was time to eat though, he would force himself to move. “Looks like you will be bringing my food again for the day. I do hope you don't get tired of serving your Master, I am told he quite likes your company.” He gave John a small grin.

"In which case, I would agree with him." John muttered the words, smiling a little now. "Alright. Let's see how many of these words I can butcher." John opened the book. He was flipping pages and listening, about to scoff when he stopped. John looked down at his Master in a bit of shock, though he matched the grin. "Yes, well. My Master can be a giant git and get himself into trouble but I find that I actually enjoy his company as well, though I'm curious as to how much he will enjoy my company when he finally cuts my tongue out."

“Yes, well he just might if you talk to him like you did when he first woke up again.” Sherlock was joking...mostly. He had come to accept and even like how bold John was with words and actions at times. Sometimes it was annoying and he was still getting used to it, since slaves usually fell all over themselves to please him. It was nice to have one different from the rest, although he was certain he wouldn't want two of them. That would most certainly cause trouble. He was quiet while John read, finding it much slower than what he read. However, he did find his slave's voice soothing and relaxing. It helped put him at ease anyway.

John rolled his eyes, knowing he was slower than Sherlock but not caring too much. His Master had said he wanted John to read, and John was not as fast as Sherlock was at reading. He continued until he heard footsteps in the hall, and he looked up with bleary eyes. "I imagine that is dinner Sir. I'll be back." John looked at the page number to remind himself of it later and crawled over Sherlock's legs again. He exited and came back up with the food a short time later. He set the tray gently on Sherlock's legs and pulled over a chair. "Can you feed yourself?" John asked, raising his eyebrows curiously. He wouldn't mind if Sherlock couldn't, but he wanted to know.

Sherlock had almost drifted back to sleep from John's voice, but he had woken back when his slave had left the room. He had taken the time to try and sit up when John had gone. It had hurt and he groaned a lot but he managed to do so at least. He scowled at the question. “Of course, I can,” he grumbled. Maybe he was just being stubborn about it but he didn't care. He picked up a cheese wedge, put it to his lips and began chewing. “See?” He gave a small grin, even though he didn't think John would be very amused by him at the moment.

John was, indeed, not amused. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. "Very good Sir, but if you are putting yourself through strain as it appears you are it will take even longer for you to heal, and longer for us to get to the manor. It is alright to need help you know." He said the second part quietly, though he broke off a piece of a roll and put it into his mouth. The cows were being milked, and there was already some milk chilling in what appeared to be an icebox in the kitchen, so John had requested some be brought to their room in half an hour. "Only going to have cheese Sir?" He asked, raising his eyebrows and watching Sherlock struggle to move his arms.

Sherlock scowled again but then relented. “Fine, you may help.” He didn't like the idea of having to be fed but he supposed John had helped him bath while he was in feverish, this wouldn't be that different. It was just his stubborn pride getting in the way of him wanting to accept the help to begin with. He sighed softly. “Sorry for being a git,” he muttered. He slumped back against the bed a little dejectedly, hating that he was admitting any of that at all.

John gave him a bright smile, a bit sardonic, but he said nothing. He turned his chair slightly and let his face fall into a gentler smile when Sherlock apologized again. He gave Sherlock a piece of bread to chew, and only shook his head. "It is alright to ask me for help Sir. I won't tease you about it, not sadistically. You are always welcome to use my reliance on you as well. But I will do my best to never make you upset to ask for my help. If you require assistance, I will give you all the assistance I can. It is nothing to be ashamed of. I certainly won't blame you for it, you're a mess." John leaned slightly on Sherlock's legs. They were not so injured like the rest of his body and John could lean on them without hurting his Master.

Sherlock gave a slight nod and then ate the food his slave offered. He wasn't used to asking for help, or anyone to freely give it either. Sure, he had slaves to do whatever he wanted but he didn't think any of them actually gave a shit about his well-being. Being seen weak and pathetic wasn't something he wanted to be portrayed as. It wouldn't help with being a Master at least. John didn't seem to mind him needing help or even want to take advantage of it.

John let the quiet reign over the room. He fed Sherlock and while his Master ate he fed himself as well. He amused himself for a few moments by imagining Dr. Hooper here with his Master. No doubt she would smother and spoil him. Feed him from a silver spoon, place pillows all around his body, attempt to kiss his wounds better... He couldn't stop the grin from appearing on his face, though he did say "Doctor Hooper being here instead," to let Sherlock know it wasn't _him_ he was amused by. "Do you just want to stay in bed and rest all day Sir? I think the police officer I called upon this morning may come by to ask you some questions."

Sherlock gave a small grin at John mentioning Doctor Hooper, even though he didn't fully understand Molly's fascination with him. Or John's for that matter. “I should probably get out of bed at some point. For now, I will make due with you feeding and reading to me.” He smirked a little at his slave. Moving around would be a hassle and hurt he figured but he didn't want to be in bed all day. That wouldn't do him any good either, he figured.

John rolled his eyes at the make due comment. "We'll see how you're doing and then decide when you should be getting up and moving." John ate a piece of cheese himself. It was pretty good. He took off another piece to give to Sherlock, holding it up against his lips gently. "And if you do get up we can go back to you sitting and me ordering our food." John had not minded Sherlock doing that, but he wouldn't particularly mind doing it again either. If he could help his Master in any way he would.

Sherlock sighed but nodded. He took the offered bread at his lips. “You are worse than my Mum I think. I climbed one of the trees in the orchard at the manor, fell and broke my collar bone. Father was furious but Mummy just took care of me.” She had said he was her 'hurt baby boy' but didn't really think he needed to share that detail. “Mum wouldn't let my father near me while I healed, but eventually I got an earful because I wasn't supposed to be out near the slaves while they worked. My parents didn't like us mingling with the slaves much. But you know me, I never listen to anyone. Even as a child.” He smirked a little at that. “I got in a lot of trouble with my Father but Mum usually intervened on my behalf. She was the only one who could stand up to my Father, at least in the privacy of the manor. In public she wouldn't challenge him, since he was in charge of the family business. Couldn't have him looking weak, I guess.” He frowned, falling quiet a moment. “I haven't spoken about them really since they died. Sorry for prattling on like an idiot.” He cleared his throat, mad at himself for being so sentimental.

John listened silently, not saying a word though he watched his Master carefully. Sherlock got a small smile on his face speaking about his mum that John wasn't sure he knew he had. He smiled in return, though. "I'm surprised you listen to me when you do." John leaned on the bed a little. "To be honest, I don't really remember my mum. Father always had her out, parading the attractive woman he had bagged with his government job. And when she was pregnant with Harry she was hidden away in her bedrooms. She died when I was little, and I always thought it was a little suspicious once I was older. Father was the last to see her alive, before a slave found her. She conveniently fell on a knife. What I do remember of her though is long hair and she liked to smile when father wasn't around. She loved Harry and I as best she could." John sighed a little, and shrugged. "Did you ever stand up to your father Sir? You seem the sort to do something."

Sherlock listened quietly to what John said and from everything his slave said about his father, it sounded like a suspicious death indeed. He smiled a little at the question. “Oh yes. Father was always telling me I should be more like Mycroft. Be more responsible and all that boring stuff. He told me I was never going to be great man like the rest of the Holmes. He didn't care that my brother and I were geniuses and there were other things we could do with our lives. Mycroft managed to do both, the bastard. I'm still at stuck at the manor, maybe out of stubborn pride to prove I can do it. Which is ridiculous since he is dead, it isn't like he would know anyway.”

"Well, from what you've said of your brother I much prefer you Sir." Though he really would be happy if his Master was more careful it would definitely be more boring. He gave Sherlock another piece of the roll. "You don't need to be a great man Sir. You're already a great man. I think it would be more impressive if you could become a _good_ man." John smiled at Sherlock, and took a bite of the cheese. "Are we just going to stay here today Sir? Or do you want to try and get up later? I can read to you again if you'd like."

“I prefer me too, but that's probably just my ego talking.” Sherlock gave a small grin and then ate the piece roll. He blinked a little at what John said next. He didn't think he would ever be a good man. He just didn't care enough about anything or anyone, other than himself really, to try that hard. “I want to get up and try to move around in a little bit. Until then, you can keep reading to me I guess.” He didn't like being confined to a bed or even that his slave was feeding him like he was some infant. For the sake of his own sanity, he needed to get up at some point even if it didn't last long.

"You do have enough of that for both of us." John teased lightly as Sherlock blinked. "Alright. Your legs are mostly fine so you should be alright. I'll be right close if you need me, though." He would be behind his Master but not hovering. Sherlock would probably take off his foot at the ankle or something if he hovered, but he did want to be sure his Master was alright. "How much more food would you like Sir? You can try eating by yourself then." He stated, wondering if he could get Sherlock to sleep so he could as well.

Sherlock studied his slave for moment. “You should sleep. You look tired and worn. I don't need to be read to. Take a nap.” John had probably been awake the entire time he had been out cold, worrying and fussing over him. It was still strange to him someone would care enough to do it, like John did but...it was nice too he supposed. He didn't have any friends really, just business associates and acquaintances. Slaves too of course, but a Master couldn't be friends with a slave. That was ridiculous...wasn't it? It wasn't really done, not even with the kinder Masters. He sighed at his thoughts, forgetting about eating for a moment.

John hummed, but didn't really answer. He didn't want to sleep while his Master was awake, who knew what trouble he'd manage to get into while John wasn't looking. The slave smirked a little at that, because Sherlock got into a lot of trouble when he wasn't watching and even when he was. "If you can keep yourself out of trouble Sir, I will take a nap." John was glad to see that the majority of the food had been eaten by both of them. There was a knock on the door and John stood up, getting the milk and two glasses and walking back over to his master. "If you're done eating we can send the tray back Sir."

“Where am I going to go to get into trouble?” Sherlock mumbled, pouting a little. “I will be a good boy and stay in bed mother,” he said rather dryly but a small grin tugged at his lips. “Fine, yes. Send the tray back.” Maybe he would nap as well. He hadn't slept the night before at all and it would do his body some good he figured. He did his best to stretch in the bed, mostly managing his legs the best and a little bit of his arms. His shoulders were what hurt the most on them and rotating them wrong way hurt.

"I don't know Sir, but if it's you I'm sure you'll manage to find trouble anywhere." John grinned at him and took the tray to the door. The maid took it from him and John returned to the bed, crawling over Sherlock and settling under the covers next to him. It was pleasantly warm under them, and John gave a full body wiggle to settle himself. "Wake me up if you need anything Sir." Now that he was not worried about his Master he was tired. Within a few minutes he was asleep, curling toward his Master as best as he could with his injured shoulder.

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh at that. He was pretty good at finding trouble, but to be fair he went looking for more often than naught. He ended up falling asleep after John but was woken up by loud knocking and his brother's voice? He groaned, thinking he must be dreaming until the door opened. He opened his eyes and glared at Mycroft. “John give my brother and I time alone. I'm sure everything is fine.” He sat up in the bed, despite the pain it caused his torso mostly. What the hell did his brother want? To yell at him no doubt.

John slept quite happily. There were no disturbing dreams or noises, not for a while. When he heard the knocking at the floor he grumbled, waking up a bit and certain that it was a maid or servant who did not have the good sense to leave when the knocks were not acknowledged. His eyes opened when the door did, though, and he turned his head to see Sherlock's brother in the doorway. He blinked a few times, his mind catching up, before he nodded and got up slowly. "I'll be downstairs ordering breakfast Sir." He walked toward the door, looking at his Master's brother a bit suspiciously. "Should I stay away longer?"

Sherlock glared at Mycroft and the brief moment he looked over to John his expression softened slightly. “Yes, that would be best.” He returned his icy gaze to his older brother when his slave had left. “Well?” He demanded. There was a lot of yelling and arguing after that, mostly from him as Mycroft chastised him in angry but hushed tones. He had gotten out of bed at one point and was now standing in front of his brother. His legs were fine, but the rest of his body did not enjoy being moved all that much. “Fine, have it your way like usual.” He gave Mycroft a small shove just to be impetuous. His brother left the room far too calmly for his liking. He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed while he waited for John to return.


	11. Chapter 11

John could hear his Master's voice from above, and he sat by the stairwell the entire time. Eventually, Mycroft came out. The man gave him a look that John met before dropping his gaze since they were in a crowd. As soon as he was out the door John grabbed the breakfast he had ordered but put on delay and went back upstairs. He knocked on the door and then entered, looking at his Master. He appeared tired and John gave him a small smile. "Hello Sir. Is everything okay?" He asked, walking over with the food. "Do you feel alright?"

Sherlock heard the door open and he tensed a moment because he thought it was Mycroft but he relaxed when he saw John. “Just my brother being a prat and telling me how to run my life again.” He sighed. “Bit tired from the yelling,” he admitted. “He has come to fetch me to take me home. Brought the carriage. He is tired of waiting on me to get back to the manor and all the delays. He has to go back to attend to his own duties. So, get the things ready and we will go after we eat I guess.” His brother hadn't even seemed to care about anything he'd told him, only that he was getting involved and he shouldn't. Caring wasn't an advantage.

John hummed and nodded, setting the tray on the nightstand. "I'm sorry Sir." If John had not been shot they could have been back earlier. If Sherlock had not stopped to help him he would be returned, and if he hadn't chased the bounty hunters to try and keep them away from John...it was John's fault. The thought made his throat close up a bit but he didn't say anything. "The uh...the inn owner was pleased to know you're doing well and offered you a room for a discount price the next time you come through." John assumed the man wanted to have the fame of having a Holmes as a repeat customer. "I will make sure everything is packed and ready and down with time to spare."

Sherlock shrugged off John's apology, since he didn’t' blame his slave for anything at all. His brother was right, he supposed. He shouldn't be caring but he did. It was stupid of him. He merely nodded at everything else his slave said and slowly picked at the food on the tray. He wasn't hungry. Mycroft had a way of getting into his head like no one else could. The bastard. He didn't even finish half and he stood slowly. “I'm ready to go John. I'll be sitting in the back with my brother and you will sit up front with his slave...Geoffrey.”

John packed what little there was while Sherlock ate. His stomach hurt and felt like it was tying itself in knots so he didn't eat. He took the bags down to the carriage and loaded them, looking away from Mycroft while he did. He managed to eat a little of what there was on the tray when Sherlock spoke. He smiled a little, amused that his Master still could not get the other slave's name right. "Will you need help going down the stairs or would you rather I follow behind?" He asked, standing before Sherlock.

Sherlock seemed to be distracted by his thoughts and didn't really pay attention to John, until spoken to. "I'll be fine." A pause. "Stay close, just in case." He left the room, he would have been fine if every other step or so didn't cause pain to the rest of his body. "The good news John is that we do get to go home today." He managed a faint smirk. He made it down the stairs without incident and out to the carriage. He did accept help for getting in but he ignored his brother staring at him disapprovingly.

John shook his head in amusement, following his Master closely as he had requested. When he seemed to falter, John would get a bit closer in case he began to fall. He grunted at the good news, not particularly pleased that they would have to be with Greg and Mycroft. Greg wasn't so bad, but John was not fond of Mycroft. He helped his Master get in, stepping onto the carriage and gently pulling him up to make sure he was in safely before closing the door and climbing up next to Greg. The other slave nodded at him and they set off, and John was completely silent.

Sherlock didn't have anything left to say to Mycroft and he ended up taking another nap and slept the whole way until they arrived back at the manor. He got out carefully. “John, get the bags please.” He didn't even thank his brother for the ride. He made his way up the stairs slowly to his room, listening to the carriage leave as Mycroft took off. He was worn out, even though he hadn't done much but sleep or lay down all day. “I'll be in my room the rest of the day. Get yourself settled in, there should be space in the dressers and closets for you.” He sat down on his bed and waited for his slave to get acclimated.

John and Greg were silent as well. Greg seemed to be a bit embarrassed, and John just didn't want to talk. He was curious about what Sherlock and Mycroft had spoken about but he had no way to ask. He looked at Boaz and Borak behind them, following along at a steady pace, and wished he could be riding one of them instead. When they returned to the manor, John and Greg both unloaded the luggage though Greg got back on the carriage as soon as the items were off and the horses were put away. John took everything up to his and Sherlock's room, following his Master with his head down around the other slaves and his shoulder aching a bit, and set about putting both their things away. John didn't have much, though he marveled at everything in the room. The room itself was spacious, the bed larger than any he had seen, and windows letting quite a bit of light in from outside. He stared out of one that faced the pasture and barn, noticing his horse in with a few others. He turned back to Sherlock. "This is a much better view than a whipping post and a dungeon cell Sir."

Sherlock ended up laying down on the bed and smirked a little at what John said. “Sorry about my brother. He is always like that. His slave is decent enough though, I suppose.” He sighed. “John, I have hand wrapped cigarettes in my top dresser drawer, bring me one. There should be some matches by the lamp over there.” It was nice to be back at the manor, in his bed. “I can't remember, did we decided if we were getting you a cot for the room or not?” A lot had happened and he wasn't sure.

"Mm. Greg is nice enough, though he is definitely a born slave. He would have been an interesting man to meet if he had been after born free." John walked over to the dresser and pulling out what he needed, then grabbed the matches. He walked back to Sherlock and handed it over, sitting on the bed next to him and not moving to lay down. He wasn't sure if he was allowed, wasn't quite sure where he stood apart from being Sherlock's favored slave now. "We agreed on sharing the bed Sir. After the last few days I think it’d be kind of strange sleeping alone."

Sherlock shrugged. “To be honest, free people aren't that interesting to meet either.” Well, everyone was boring to him for the most part. He sat up carefully and then took out a cigarette out of the metal case, and then set it near the bed. He hadn't brought them on the trip because he had been trying to quit but he could use one now. He struck the match, shaking it out when the cigarette was lit. He didn't have the energy to play the violin, it was his other way of calming down. Besides, it was downstairs anyway.  “That’s right. We did.” He rubbed a hand at his head with a small sigh. It wasn't like him to forget things and it unsettled him, and he hoped the cigarette would help with that.

"You're a free person and you were interesting to meet." Although interesting was putting it mildly. His Master was amazing and a genius but also a bastard and a lazy arse. He watched his Master light up a cigarette and tapping on the bed. "Should I get to know the other slaves, Sir?" John looked at hid Master a bit nervously. "Or would you rather I begin to clean your room?" John looked around once more. The room was a bit messy but not too bad, more like it was lived in but not abused. It smelled like Sherlock, and that was actually quite nice.

Sherlock smirked. “I am the rare exception then.” Right. John was a slave. “Clean my room. Then go and see Mrs. Hudson. She has been a slave for my family for years and one of the few I can rely on really. She will find you something to do. Stay busy, mingle if you want. Not sure how welcoming they will be though. When it is dinnertime go to the kitchen and bring up my food.” He had finished his cigarette by the time he had finished speaking, and squished the butt out on the floor. His slave was cleaning anyway, what was one more thing?

John nodded at his Master, not saying anything else. Now that they were back it was likely that Sherlock would treat him like a real slave, and give him orders. Though he had said nothing would change in the room... John stood and looked at him, glaring a bit. "That is disgusting and will be a pain in the arse to clean out, and might even stain, and that is not my fault because I'm not the one who put it there." He left the room to go and get some supplies he'd need. He returned in a few minutes and began cleaning, stacking everything on the floor first in piles and then putting them into where it looked like they went. He hummed as he did, working as hard as he could without ruining his shoulder.

Sherlock blinked a little at John and then smirked. It was nice to see that too much hadn't changed between them since coming home. “There wasn't an ashtray nearby,” he muttered when his slave finally returned. He figured that would earn him another glare but oh well. He continued to lay on his bed and he just watched John work. There wasn't much he could do himself at the moment. Tomorrow he might be able to do more. He had napped all the way home and so he wasn't tired at all, so he just laid there watching his slave.

John made a mental note to bring an ashtray into the room. He didn't want to have to clean up another stain from cigarettes on the floor. There was a slight, barely noticeable stain left over from where Sherlock had put the other one down. John finished with his Master's room in a couple hours, keeping an eye on him as he did. When he finished he went and spoke to Mrs. Hudson as he had been told, liking the older woman immediately. She didn't seem like she took much lip off of Sherlock and Mycroft, though she had been their slave since they were children. She was kind and motherly and while insistent that since Sherlock had kept John with his injured shoulder there was some sort of romance between them. John denied it but she ignored him.

Sherlock didn't know what to do with himself now that John had left the room. He sighed and finally got out of the bed, groaning a little at the pain his body was still. He walked over to his dresser, where there was a mirror. Damn. He really had taken quite a beating. He stripped his shirt off carefully to get a better look at the rest of his body. It was covered in bruises, discolored black, blue, yellow and purple. He looked horrid. He didn't bother picking up the shirt that was now on the ground, despite the fact that his slave had just cleaned the room. He didn't want to be seen like this by anyone else, so he stayed in his room. God, he was bored though. He searched around a bit until he found that deck of cards and began playing solitaire on the floor.

John came back in the evening with dinner. He was a bit pale and obviously worn out but smiling a little. It grew when he saw his Master, and he walked over to the bed to set the tray down on. "Hello Sir. I hope you've been doing alright while I've been out. I met Mrs. Hudson. She's lovely although I think she has the wrong impression of us." John frowned and sat on the bed, looking at his Master. "The other slaves gave me strange looks as well. I don't think they like that you brought me back. And I went to see my horse, he's healing nicely. Are you feeling alright? I've brought dinner, Mrs. Hudson said it was your favorite as a child."

Sherlock looked up and smiled when he saw John but it faltered when he took in his slave's look. “You are done working today. You will stay in here with me.” A slow smirk grew on his lips. “You can read to me some more after I finish eating.” He picked up the cards and stood up from the floor with a slight wince and then made his way over to the bed. He picked up the tray and set it on his lap after he sat down. He began eating, slowly but managing this time a bit better than he had before.

John was glad to see the smile on Sherlock's face. The worry that Sherlock would turn into a real Master even in their shared bedroom was rapidly fading. "Yes Sir." Though he had to bite his tongue against the 'what are you, a child?' that tried to escape his lips. He didn't think his Master would take well to the tease. "You look like a mess Sir. Would you rather I prepare a bath for you and then read to you once you've bathed?" John leaned onto the bed and eased down to lay on it. He watched his Master eat and closed his eyes to allow himself a brief rest.

Sherlock glanced down at himself. “I suppose I do. Yes, that will do nicely. Thank you, John.” At least he didn't have to rely on his slave to eat food this time. He finished eating and disrobed completely when he stood back up. Like usual, the clothes just remained strewn on the floor. He went to the bathroom that was connected to his room. “Add some scented salts, it will help relax me. They are in here somewhere...” He gestured vaguely to the cabinets in the room near him.

The slave rolled his eyes, sitting up, though he smiled as he did so. He had gotten a thank you. That was rather impressive. He stood and turned the water on, leaving the clothes to grab later, and headed for the cabinets. It took a few minutes of searching, wincing, and cursing Sherlock sometimes quite vocally before he found the scented salts. They were almost all the way in the back, meaning he had to get on hands and knees and reach into the cabinet to get them, stretching around the towels, cleaning supplies, and assorted items John didn't want to think about to get them. He put them in the bath and made sure they were distributed evenly before nodding at his Master. "There you are Sir. Anything else while I am in here?"

Sherlock watched John try and find the bath salts. He hadn't realized they would be such a pain to find but he supposed he didn't used them that often so it shouldn't have come as that much of a surprise. “What's the matter John, don't want to bathe your Master this time?” He gave a small smirk as he climbed, sighing in contentment at the feeling of the warm water. “Just sit and talk with me. I missed you and was horridly bored being alone in my room.” He had gotten so used to spending an entire day with his slave, it was strange being without him. “Tell me, how was the first day here for you? Mrs. Hudson treated you well, I suspect.”

"I think you're well enough to wash without my assistance, but if you ask I won't say no." John blinked in surprise at the admission but went and sat next to his Master when he got in the bath, crossing his legs and looking at him. "I missed you as well Sir. Mrs. Hudson was very accommodating and is a real joy. The slaves all like her and she told me some things about you and your brother growing up. The other slaves are not fond of me but I don't care. I tried to speak with some of them but they snorted or ignored me or didn't answer me when I asked them for some instruction. I felt like I was dealing with morons. That must be how you and your brother feel most of the time."

Sherlock was pleased that John stayed and he began washing himself while his slave told him about the first day at the manor. “I am glad you like Mrs. Hudson. Not surprised she had stories about Mycroft and me. She helped raised us when our parents were too busy with the family business, which was...a lot. And ignore those other idiots. You are better off without them anyway. They will only try and drag you into their petty games anyway.” He closed his eyes and sank a little further into the water, just enjoying it soaking into his skin. He had finished washing and just wanted to relax a little longer.

"You're lucky to have her. Other kids had me though it wasn't for very long, and there were few I could tolerate, but she seems to like you as though you and your brother were her own children and won't tolerate the other slaves talking bad about either of you in her presence." John took a liberty and scooted behind his Master, spreading his legs around the tub and, glad the tub was built into the floor, put his hand over his Master's eyes and began to run water through his curls. When they were wet to his liking he began to run his fingers through them, untangling some and giving Sherlock's head a gentle massage as best as he could. "After everything you have done for me, Sir, I don't think I could ever fall into their games against you."

"In some ways, I am closer to her than I was my own Mum." Sherlock was curious what John was up to but be trusted his slave. He gave a hum of appreciation when his hair began getting washed and he closed his in contentment from the feeling. He smirked a little. "Well that it is good to know. Otherwise I might be worried you would try and drown me right now in my own tub." He titled his head back so he could look at his slave. "Honestly John, it isn't even something I am worried about. I trust you."

John hummed in response to Sherlock's words of Mrs. Hudson, though he didn't say anything. He was glad that his Master didn't mind him touching his head so freely, and he grabbed the hair wash from the side of the tub and began to use that as well. His Master's hair got soapy and bubbly and John chuckled as he began to play with it. He dropped his hands when Sherlock tilted his head back, and his cheeks flushed a little at his Master's words. "If I were going to try and drown you it would have been while you were washing yourself Sir." He smiled in pleasure at knowing he was trusted. "You know I trust you as well."

Sherlock didn't mind John washing his hair or playing with it. It was quite nice in fact. Relaxing and soothing. It made him forget his body ached from getting the shit kicked out of him. "Good. Tomorrow I will show you my library. It is a right mess. You will be in charge of cleaning it. I still have to show you the tongue on the mantle to show you what happens to slaves who are rude to their Masters." He smirked a little as he glanced back up at John. "When you bring me dinner you will be done working from now on. I have come to enjoy our time together and would like to keep that going. Also, feel free to read any book from the library. I don't have much in the way of fiction though."

John rinsed his Master's hair gently, playing with it once the soap was out and chuckling as he styled it. He put the hair spiked in the middle, and then split it down the middle. It was actually kind of fun to play with. "I almost shudder just to think of how your library must look if you spend more time in there than in your room." As soon as he finished speaking, giving Sherlock a small, teasing grin. "I'm eager to see it, Sir, and may have a few questions for you once I do." He dropped his hands to the back of his Master's neck and gently scratching the hair there. "You are very generous, Sir, and I'll do everything I can to make sure you don't regret allowing me to do so." He meant it too. Sherlock was giving him more than he had asked for, and he intended to do his best to make sure it was never a regretted decision.

Sherlock closed his eyes while John continued to play with his hair. He sat there quietly for a bit. “You should be a bit worried. I don't let many people in there. It is locked if I am not in there. It gets cleaned once a year, usually by Mrs. Hudson. I'm sure she won't mind letting you do it this year.” He smirked once more. He didn't trust too many slaves under his command really. He shrugged a little at being told he was generous. He figured John deserved it. Earned it even. His slave had saved him a few times now and had taken care of him when any other slave would have just run off and left him for dead in some ditch.

"Oh dear. I really am worried then. Once a year and you never clean it...it may take me longer than a day, possibly longer than a week if Mrs. Hudson would happily pawn it off on me." John shook his head and stroked his fingers down Sherlock's neck. He let himself relax further, bending his back and placing his chin gently upon his Master's head as he dropped his hands to the top of Sherlock's back and then to the middle, gently massaging the muscles and careful of the bruises. "Are you ready to go back to bed or do you want to stay in here a while longer?"

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh at that. He didn't think it was that bad but to him the chaos made perfect sense. “Perhaps. I will be in there most of the time anyway, so feel free to clean in there as long as you want.” He gave his slave a smile. God, John's hands felt wonderful on his back. “I think I will stay here as long as you keep doing that.” His eyes closed again and he relaxed into the tub and John's hands. It was feeling all rather wonderful and he didn't want to get up from it at all. “I could get used to this every night,” he murmured in quiet contentment.

John rolled his eyes fondly at the laugh. He was finding that he could appreciate Sherlock more and more, with his personality--as abrasive as it was-and how his brain worked the longer he was around. "I suppose that as long as you are in there I will work as best as I can." John smiled in response to Sherlock. He kept his hands working against the muscles, pushing and prodding gently as he relaxed them and made them loose. John hummed a little again, making a map of his Master's body in his mind. "I worked under a few people who did this professionally. They taught me some things, and said I could use them on other slaves when their aches and pains began to affect them as well. I'm glad you like it. You're one of the few I've cared to do this for."

Sherlock groaned in appreciation as John continued to work on his back. “I've never had anyone do this for me before. Thank you.” Eventually the water began getting cold though. “Enough for now. The water has lost its temperature.” He unplugged the tub and then stood, shivering a little as his body hit the cooler air. “Hand me a towel please.” He stepped out the bath, dripping water on the floor some. He took a towel once it was handed over and then dried himself off, letting it fall to the ground when he was done. He grabbed a simple pair of trousers and a short-sleeved shirt.

When his Master stated the water was growing chilled, John stood and reached for the towel before Sherlock had finished speaking. He handed it over readily, and picked it up once again once it was dropped. John hung it up to dry and then spent a few minutes cleaning up the water Sherlock had dripped, as well as the cabinets. He was quick about cleaning the cabinets, finding that although there was not a lot inside the cabinets, they were piled so haphazardly that it was a pain to clean up. Once he was done he walked back out and heard a bell. "I think that is the dinner bell for the slaves Sir." He looked out to see some of the stable slaves exiting and heading for the manor. "May I go?"

Sherlock had laid down on the bed when John walked in. Oh. Right. “Yes, that is fine.” It would mean being alone again. It wouldn't be long he figured but he was just wanting to be selfish in wanting to keep his slave with him the rest of the night. He sighed quietly, stretched a little and waited for John to come back from dinner. He was trying not to pout too much, since it seemed such a dumb thing to be upset over in the first place.

John walked over to his Master and put another towel he had grabbed on his head and then carefully wrapped it around his hair. "I'll be back as soon as it is over, and shall inform Mrs. Hudson that my meals will be spent with you." He intended to speak only to Mrs. Hudson. The other slaves didn't need to know of his and Sherlock's 'relationship'. He came back in half an hour, looking a bit healthier and full. He went and flopped on the bed next to Sherlock, turning to his Master as best as he could and putting a hand on his back. "Want me to read to you now Sir?"

Sherlock smiled a little at John, feeling much better. He waited surprisingly patiently considering the mood he had just been. He smiled again when his slave came back in the room. “Yes, that would be nice.” A smirk. “Even if you do read slow.” He did like the sound of John's voice. It was calming, like when his slave worked on his back. There was plenty of room on the bed but when John got on the bed he found himself scooting closer to his slave.

John grabbed the book he'd been reading from where he had put it on the nightstand when he unpacked. It had been the easiest place to put it, and he scooted up to lean against the headboard as his Master came closer. "If you think I read slow you can do it yourself." John gave him the book with a grin.

Sherlock grinned back. “Oi, slave do as I say!” He gave the book back to John but he couldn’t keep a straight face at all and ended up laughing. He snuggled in a little closer to his slave and waited for John to start reading. He was glad they got on so well together. He truly did enjoy his slave's company and glad he had made that agreement the day at the whipping post. It was the best investment he'd ever made but he saw John as more than that now. His slave was more like a friend now, which wasn't really done but he didn't care about that.

"Yes, Master, whatever you say Sir." John rolled his eyes and opened the book. He meant it, though he laughed as well. He put an arm around his Master's shoulder and put the bookmark down. He began to read, smiling as he did. He enjoyed his time with his Master, which was a first for him. He read as long as he could, finding his eyes drifting shut. He had never been comfortable enough to just fall asleep with a Master before, but he knew there was a first for everything. "I'm sorry Sir, I can't continue much longer. I'm too tired." He yawned.

Sherlock smirked at John's reply and he listened quietly while his slave read to him. “Apparently your Master has worked you too hard. Sleep well John.” He yawned as well, stretching and he curled into his slave a bit to get more comfortable. He closed his eyes, sleep finding him quite quickly. It was easy for him to do with John next to him and the feeling of safety that came with it.

"I only work hard for my Master." John tightened his arm around his Master after he set the book down. He curled into him as well, finding himself falling asleep quickly too. He was comfortable around Sherlock, far more than he'd ever been before, and so he had no issues sleeping.

Sherlock slept until morning, waking with his head buried into John's shoulder and an arm lazily draped over his slaves' stomach. He groaned a little but knew he had to get up and so did his slave. “John, it is time to get up. We have a lot to today. I'll take breakfast downstairs, instead of my room.” He disentangled himself from John, though he hadn't wanted to. He hoped his slave understood why he was being all business now, rather than their usual banter. He was just setting the tone for when they left the room. He got out of bed, disrobed and got on his usual attire of posh clothes.

John woke quickly when Sherlock spoke, opening his eyes and immediately up. He didn't want to get up, he was comfortable where he was laying with his Master on his good shoulder, but he knew they had to. "Yes Sir." He sat up and swung his legs over. He stood and walked over, a little shaky, to the closet where his clothes were. He dressed quickly and then nodded at his Master, schooling his face into the black slate the other slaves would need to see. "Good morning Sir." He opened the door for Sherlock when he was ready to leave.

Sherlock nodded and gave John a small smile of appreciation before he left the room. He went downstairs and sat at the unnecessarily large table, since he was the only one who really ate it. Unless he had guests over to manor. He waited for his slave to serve him. “Stay busy while I eat. Then I will have you work on my den. You will need to wait for me to unlock. You are dismissed.” He began eating once he finished speaking with John.

Mrs. Hudson gave John food to take out to Sherlock, sending him off with a smile. The other slaves gave him pitying looks he ignored. He adored Sherlock, and they had no business thinking they knew what he thought. He set the food down in front of his Master, knowing as his Master spoke that his 'keeping busy' would be eating breakfast. Since Mrs. Hudson was the oldest of the slaves she was in charge and had already informed John that his schedule was flexible to accommodate Sherlock in whatever he chose for John to do. He went and ate his own breakfast while he waited for his Master to finish, watching the other slaves and listening to them speak.

Sherlock didn't take long to eat and he stood up. “John! Come. You have a lot of work to do.” He called out loudly, so his slave would hear. He walked over to the den and unlocked the door. He went inside and waited John to follow. He closed the door behind them. “Welcome to my sanctuary John.” He gave his slave a small smile. “Have fun cleaning in here.” He smirked a little and went over to the mahogany desk and sat down in large black chair. He sighed and looked over the paper work he had to do. Of course, his brother had left him a lot. Bastard.

John heard and stuffed the remaining food into his face. He was surprised when Mrs. Hudson gave him a kiss and a good luck as he walked off, joining his Master and following him inside. He looked about the study for a moment before heading for the back of the room to begin cleaning. While Sherlock worked, he made his way from the back to the front steadily. There were a few things he couldn't lift or move with his shoulder the way it was, but he had about half the room cleaned up before lunch. "Is the tongue in this room Sir?" John called, as he dusted some bookshelves and ordered them by author and then title.

Sherlock began his work almost immediately, using a quill pen and inkwell. He was quiet and diligent until he heard John speak. He lifted his head to glance up at his slave, a smirk on his lips. "Yes, right behind me on the mantle." He gestured with his thumb to the fireplace behind him. He glanced around the room and nodded. "Looks good John. And here you thought it would take you a week. Looks to me like you are half done. Break for lunch. Just bring me back something light." He went back to his work, knowing John would do as told.

John took a few minutes to look at the tongue, picking it up and eyeing it. The slave's jaw must have been broken to get so much tongue out of his mouth. John rubbed his own in sympathy before walking out of the study and hurrying to the kitchen. He told Mrs. Hudson of Sherlock's request and she agreed, thanking him for doing the study. "It really isn't that bad."

"I'm grateful anyway. There are some things I have found in there before that would give a lesser woman a heart attack."

John only nodded and took the food back. He placed it by his Master's side when he returned. "Here you are Sir. Anything else before I go back to work?"

Sherlock gave a small shake of his head and continued his work but he paused and looked up at John. “Did you get something for yourself? See to it you eat before you resume working. Please don't bother me again until it is time for dinner. I will take it in my room with you. We will both be done for the day after that.” He returned his attention back to the papers in front of him. He had a lot to do still. Not even half done with all the work Mycroft had left him. He sighed quietly to himself but kept going, eyebrows furrowed a little in concentration.

"Mrs. Hudson fed me while I was in the kitchen waiting for your food." John looked over his Master's shoulder. It had been a while since he'd had a chance to look at papers of business, and he immediately looked away in disgust and boredom. Sometimes he was glad he had been sold into slavery, purely because it meant he didn't have to worry about writing or reading or making connections. "When the dinner bell rings then. I'll make sure to wake you up from your work-induced state and drag you back to the room for our meal." John went back to work. The mess seemed to worsen the closer he got to Sherlock and his work space, and it took him longer to clean bookcases and shelves as he made his way forward.

“Good,” he absently replied when John mentioned he'd eaten. Sherlock hated this stupid work. It was all so boring and mindless. He supposed he could hire someone to do all the paper work but he really didn't trust anyone else to do it. Maybe except Mycroft, but obviously his older brother hadn't touched any of it. Mycroft hadn't approved of when he had gone off with John but oh well. It was one of the best times of his life, despite everything that had gone horridly wrong on their journey. He wanted more trips like that. Maybe once he was caught up on all this in front of him, they could go somewhere and find more adventure...trouble.

John continued cleaning for hours. He had gotten three-fourths of the room done, with only the area where Sherlock was working, done when the dinner bell rang. He had found a number of things he assumed Mrs. Hudson had been talking about. There were record books that must have been Sherlock's, given as they depicted the manor, and then a number of experiments that took place inside of it. John paused to read some of the entries, including the torture and pleasure ones, and found himself both interested and disgusted. Not by Sherlock, but by some of the actions, though he could understand the scientific curiosity. When it came to one man being penetrated by three other male slaves John closed the book and put it away, his face red. He'd never even thought of anything that...scandalous. Although he couldn't help but notice that his Master didn't really participate too much in the pleasure experiments beyond recording and watching. When the bell rang, with John looking through a layout of the manor, he shook himself and put it up. "That's the bell Sir. You're done working for the day." John walked to the front. "I will meet you in our room?"

Sherlock didn't even notice that John was reading through some of his notes. He was quite focused on his task. He hadn't even heard the bell and it took a moment for his slave's voice to register. He finished the stack of papers quickly before he finally looked up at John. “Yes, that is fine.” He sighed and put the quill down. His eyes were tired from staring at nothing but papers practically all day. He rubbed at them and stood slowly. He left the den, locking up behind him once he made sure his slave still wasn't inside and then went to his room. He disrobed partially, taking off his jacket and shirt. The bruises on his torso were thankful for the air and he sat down on his bed.

John exited the room quickly, heading down to the kitchen. The sooner he got their food the sooner they could speak. He liked being able to speak freely with Sherlock, even when he was an arse. It was something he'd never been able to do before. He got their food--two bowls of soup, two rolls, some cheese, and then wine for Sherlock and water for John--and retired to their room. He saw some of the slaves give him looks with a mixture of pity and annoyance, as though they found it hard to believe their Master ate with this insolent slave. John said nothing though he did his best to look like he was being punished until he entered the room. He turned and shut the door and then sighed. The other slaves were tedious and annoying. He took the tray over to the nightstand and, once again, flopped on the bed by his Master with a huff. "Other people are so…tedious and judgmental." His voice was muffled because he was face down in the comforter.

Sherlock looked up when the door opened and he gave John a smile. “Yes, agreed. It was why I try to spend as little time with them as possible. Except for you.” He sat up on the bed so he could eat, setting the tray on his lap to reach to the food easier. He eyed the glass of water, which was obviously for his slave. “Do you want wine instead?” He asked before he began eating, dipping his roll into the soup and then taking a bite of it.

"Mrs. Hudson is the only one who doesn't think you're torturing me, but who's to say spending a night with you can't be torture?" John was clearly teasing. He sat up and joined his Master's side. "I mean, getting threatened to have my tongue cut out tends to wear on my psyche after a while." He grinned and shook his head at the offer. "I'm not that much of a wine person, Sir. I much prefer my ale or water." He had gotten used to rough drinks in his time as a slave and wine no longer held any appeal for him most nights. He copied Sherlock's movements with the soup and roll, closing his eyes in bliss.

“Mrs. Hudson is rather shrewd for someone her age, or maybe she just knows me better than most.” Sherlock gave a small shrug and then smirked. “Yes, well now that you have seen what will happen first hand, I suspect I shouldn't have to threaten you again.” He scooted a little closer to John, so their sides were touching though he hadn't really realized he had done it. It'd been more of a subconscious thing. “That's too bad. I have some of the finest wine in the world here at the manor. Expensive, rare wines that I do so enjoy. Never much liked ale. A good scotch is all right from time to time.” He continued to eat, enjoying his slave's company like usual.

"I'd say she knows you better than most." John rolled his eyes. "She calls you her 'Little Lock.' It's rather precious Sir." John didn't even notice his Master scoot closer, finding it completely natural to be close to him. "Yes, although I do have to ask you-that was quite a bit of tongue in there. Did they break his jaw to get it, or did he have a longer tongue than most?" He asked curiously. "Scotch is agreeable, though I haven't had any of the good stuff in ages. I snuck a few bottles from a Master about...seven years ago. Earned me twenty lashes, five of my nails pulled out of my fingers, and a selling but I still say it was worth it." John had been mostly drunk when it happened anyway, the pain had barely registered. He finished his soup and roll quickly, slurping the last of the soup and then drinking some of his water.

Sherlock scowled. “Don't call me that.” He didn't even like that Mrs. Hudson did it but he just didn't have it in him to do anything about it. He shrugged at the question. “My father is the one who did it. I was young but still remember most of it. I think he may have broken the jaw to get the whole thing. Never let the slave get it fixed either, I don't think. He died shortly after though, tetanus I think. Father had used a rather dull and rusty blade to take it out, so it would take longer.” He finished his soup before continuing on with their conversation. “I will get us a bottle of scotch sometime then.” His back ached from sitting all day. “I am going to bathe. Come, keep me company. Wash me even, I liked that. A massage would be lovely as well. I think we will make this part of our routine as part of the time we share our room.”

"Come on, Sir. It's cute. Makes one think of a bunny rather than a vicious hound." John grinned, adoring the half-scowl, half-pout his Master wore. "I'll do my best to not let the words escape my mouth." While his Master was present, though he may start calling Sherlock that while with Mrs. Hudson. He winced at the thought of dying from tetanus. He knew the body became paralyzed after a time and then just gave up living. With that and a broken jaw and cut out tongue...what a horrible way to go. Still an interesting story though. Though the promise of sharing a scotch with his Master sounded like fun, and John looked forward to it already. He finished his cheese before looking at his Master and nodding. "I'll do your hair but I'm pretty sure you don't need me bathing your body. And I can do the massage either in the tub or on the bed, where ever you'd prefer it." He took a gulp of his water and then another, enjoying the cool, pure taste. John didn't mind the bath becoming part of their routine, and he stood with his Master to go get the salts and the tub ready.

“John I'm serious. Don't let me hear you saying that ever again. There will be consequences for you, first and only warning on that.” Sherlock meant what he said, his good mood ruined quite quickly. He knew he could wash himself just fine, but he liked the feeling of his slave's fingers on him. He disrobed but he pouted as he got in the tub when it was finally ready. He didn't do anything though, or even look at John. It was clear he wasn't in the least happy with the recent turn of events. He sighed to himself, closed his eyes and then submerged under the water fully. He stayed under for almost a minute before he came back up, gasping a bit for breath.

John couldn't help but roll his eyes at his Master's dramatics. He put his shoulder on his knee and leaned his chin into his hand, watching his Master submerge himself. As soon as he was up, John had his fingers in his hair and was working to return the mood to what it was previously. "Honestly, Sir, you'll never hear the words escape my lips. I promise. It would be a bit ridiculous anyway, given as to how much taller you are than I." He worked his fingers through the curls, again unknoting them and straightening his hair until his Master looked quite like a villain. "No need to get so upset, Sir. Really. Perhaps I ought to get more wine for you. It might loosen you up some and then I could do quite a bit with your back muscles." John tilted Sherlock's head slightly to reach his bangs better, giving the man a small smile. "I'd rather not upset you with the name and have my tongue removed."

“Just stop talking about it, for God's sake!” Sherlock was furious at the moment, and not even John playing with his hair was able to soothe him. “Just, get the hell out. Out of my room, right now! Find somewhere else to sleep!” He turned his head away from his slave, glad there were still drops of water on his face from going under because he was certain there were tears in his eyes and they wouldn't be as noticeable. They didn't fall but they certainly threatened to. No. He was Sherlock Holmes. He didn't cry. He cleared his throat and hoped like hell John had left because he didn't want to be seen like this. Why couldn't he have just explained things instead of yelling like some sort of idiot? He sighed at himself, bringing his knees up to his chest so he could rest his head on them.

John took his fingers away, frowning. He thought about getting up and doing as he had been ordered, turning to stand, but then turned back to his Master. "No, Sir. We are not doing this again. You are not throwing a fit and pushing me away again until I decide to be a good little slave and then you get uncomfortable." He eyed the tub, knowing he was stupid and that this would just prove it, and took off his shirt and trousers. It left him in his pants and he stood, walked to the side of the tub, and then stepped in. He sat in front of his Master and pried open his arms determinedly. "You will open your mouth and tell me what about the name pisses you off right now or I swear to the gods, Sir, you will be cutting out my tongue and a few of my limbs off tomorrow." He growled, narrowing his eyes.

Sherlock was certainly surprised John had stayed. Except for the first day, his slave had listened to him and this was his first time since then of being disobeyed. It would have annoyed him if he wasn't already upset. He actually leaned into John but he was quiet a long time. He cleared his throat. “My mum thought that was a cute name for me that Mrs. Hudson called me. So, she would call me that now and then. I was there when she died and she was trying to comfort me saying everything would be all right and she called me that. Her last words. Mrs. Hudson doesn't know. I've...never told anyone that.” He shrugged, feeling stupid for letting sentiment get in the way. “Father was dead by the time I found them. Anyway, it doesn't matter now. They are both dead, nothing can be done about it. So please, don't use that term of endearment around me again and never speak of this stupid, weak moment to anyone.”

John felt relief that his Master was not screaming at him further and telling him that his tongue really would be cut off. He listened as Sherlock spoke, keeping quiet, and scooted closer the more his Master said. Proving himself further an idiot, John put his arms around Sherlock's shoulders and hugged him. "You had a wonderful mother, Sir. It wasn't...it isn't weakness, and whoever told you that having emotions is weakness is even more stupid than I am. It's a strength, Sir. To keep it buried for so long with Mrs. Hudson calling you that…you should cherish it instead of hating it. You had a nickname. You had two mothers, although excuse me for saying so, but your father sounds like a bastard. Your brother could be worse. But you shouldn't be…ashamed or upset by that name. You ought to love it because it was yours and the people who love you use it." He pulled his Master's head off of him and then pressed their foreheads together. "I won't use it, but you shouldn't hate it either."

Sherlock didn't say anything as John comforted and spoke to him. He didn't have anything more to say. His slave was right about his father. A bastard through and through. It hadn't come as a surprise his father had been murdered, but his mother... She hadn't deserved it. Had never hurt anyone, not even a slave. He couldn't wait to find the person who had done it, so he could have his vengeance. That was, if Mycroft didn't steal all the glory for himself. He felt his hands clench into fists, his thoughts making the rage in him return.

John shook his Master gently. "No, stop it. Not right now Sir." He could tell where his Master's thoughts were going, and they didn't need to go there. "Wait until you're healed, Sir. We will find them, Sir. We'll find them, and I am going with you. We've found out what happens when I'm not around to help you out." John looked into his Master's eyes. "I promise you Sir, you will find the people who killed your mother and you will get what you need from them, and you will kill them. But for right now, Sir, you need to relax and heal and not strain yourself." He couldn't believe he was giving his Master orders, but he had to or risk even more anger from his Master for no real reason.

Sherlock blinked as he was literally shaken from his thoughts. He nodded slowly. “I'm fine now. Thank you, John.” He managed a small smile. “I was right to trust you.” He reached up and pat his slave on one of the hands. “I don't know if my brother will allow me to involve you. He isn't even letting Gary go with him or in on any of it. This is something we need to do alone.” He wanted to move closer to John because he found it rather comforting to be with his slave but the tub wasn't big enough for him to really move around in it, not with them both in it.

John nodded, moving his head back a few inches though not too far away from Sherlock's. He flushed with pride and embarrassment at being told Sherlock was glad he trusted John. He had never wanted a Master's trust before, but he wanted to take Sherlock's and wrap it somewhere safely so he could never break it. "What your brother doesn't know won't hurt him. What if I accompanied you but didn't... help you with them. Like you did with my father, you went with me but allowed me to confront him by myself. I really...really don't want to let you go alone, Sir." It was a bit uncomfortable but John spread his legs so he could put them above Sherlock's to give them a bit more room. "Do you want to finish washing or would you rather we move to the bed Sir?"

Sherlock was quiet a long while again. “Maybe. We will see how things go. We are still in the investigative stage.” He got up slowly. “We can move to the bed. Pull the plug.” He stepped out the tub and actually grabbed them both towels. “Here.” He dried himself off and let it fall to the floor. He got dressed in a pair of plain trousers and crawled into bed. He grinned at his slave. “Are you going to read to me again tonight? At this rate, we will never finish the book.” He actually enjoyed listening to John's voice. “Perhaps make it part of our nightly ritual as well.”

John got up after his Master did, pulling the plug with his toes and being careful not to slip. He grabbed the towel and dried himself quickly, taking off his pants and wrapping the towel around his waist when he went to grab new clothes. He picked up his Master's and dressed himself in beige pants and trousers with a thin sleeved shirt on top. "Huh. With questions like that I'm thinking I shouldn't, since you enjoy insulting me so much." John frowned and stuck his tongue out. "Besides, I thought you wanted a massage. Book and then massage, or massage and then book?" He questioned again, stretching himself carefully.

Sherlock smirked. “What's the matter John, can't do both at the same time? What good are you as a slave if you can't perform more than one task at once? Sometimes I don't think you want to keep that tongue, when you do things like stick it out at me.” The smirk got bigger. He was still pretty tense, maybe even more so after talking about his mother. “A massage first. Reading afterward.” He stretched out on the bed, resting his chin in his pillow as he laid on his stomach carefully. It was still a bit sore but his back was what needed the work.

"I can, but unless you want to lose strength in an arm or leg because I'm not paying attention it's best if I do one at a time." John shrugged at the other statement and grinned. "I thought it'd be okay tonight." He watched as his Master turned onto his stomach. He took a deep breath and crawled over, swinging his leg over Sherlock's hips so that he was straddling the other. It was a bit strange to be doing it, but John focused on how tense Sherlock's back was. He put his fingers and knuckles to work, digging into the muscle to loosen it. "Let me know if it gets to be too much." He warned though he didn't stop.

Sherlock groaned a little but didn't complain. “You are fine,” he murmured. He eventually began to relax. It was easy for him to do, since he was so comfortable around John to begin with. “Feels good,” he encouraged. He gave a small sigh of contentment, eyes closing. He began to become so relaxed that he ended up falling asleep, his body going limp under his slave's fingers. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, he wasn't even that tired. Everything just felt wonderful and he was completely at ease.

John grinned when he felt Sherlock relaxing. He wondered how many people got to see this man like this and knew it wasn't many. It was difficult enough to get him to relax around John, and it was hard to imagine him doing so around many other people. John didn't try to stop him from falling asleep, working himself into a zone where he didn't pay attention to anything but the man below him. When Sherlock was well asleep, John let himself stop. He carefully removed himself from his place atop his master and then curled up next to him. John put his face in his Master's shoulder and sighed, putting an arm and leg around him. "Goodnight Sir. Sleep well." He whispered the words, falling asleep soon after.


	12. Chapter 12

Sherlock slept the rest of the night, in a fitful slumber. At some point, he must have curled into John because his face was in his slave's chest when he woke. He smiled. “Good morning.” Oh shit. He pulled away suddenly, as he realized he had an erection. He cleared his throat and stumbled to the bathroom, feeling a bit embarrassed. A feeling he had never felt before really. He slammed the door closed behind him, sliding down it, unsure what to do with himself.

John had his arms wrapped around Sherlock and a leg around him still when he pulled away. John woke immediately, watching as Sherlock left the bed. He was moving funny and John sat up just as the door slammed. He blinked and tried to think of anything that would make his Master be so upset this early in the morning but was unable to. He stretched, checked his stitches, and then got up. He walked over to where Sherlock had shut the door and knocked on it. "Sir? Are you alright?"

Well, at least John hadn't noticed. It had made things slightly less awkward now. “Yes, I'm fine. Just...give me a minute...” He stood up, moved over to the loo and got himself off quickly. He relieved himself afterward. He opened the door and gave his slave his best reassuring smile. “I'm going to get ready. Then we will go down for breakfast, then back to work.” He grabbed clothes and instead of disrobing in front of John, he went back to the bathroom and changed there, making sure to close the door behind him.

John grunted an assent and left the door. Perhaps he had just had an upset stomach or something of the sort. John went to the closet and pulled out clothes he could wear, changing quickly as he prepared for his Master to come back out and give him a job. He was bending over to put on his trousers on when his Master reemerged. John pulled his trousers up and turned, raising his eyebrows at the smile he was given. It was meant to be reassuring but it worried him more than anything. He opened his mouth to ask Sherlock if he was alright again, but he was back in the loo before he could. John shook his head and buttoned up his shirt, making a note to keep an eye on his Master that day. He waited by the door for Sherlock once he was dressed, tray from the night before in his hands.

Sherlock came out of the bathroom fully dressed, his other clothes left on the bathroom floor. He opened the door without a word and went downstairs. He was feeling better than yesterday, his bruises fading along with pain. He sat down at the table and waited for John to serve him food, still not speaking a word or even looking at his slave. He sighed at how stupid he was being and knew John had noticed his weird behavior but knew his slave wouldn't say anything out in the open, so at least he didn't have to worry about that.

John followed Sherlock silently, knowing he'd have to pick the clothes in bathroom up later. He was confused about the silence he was given but figured it was just because they were out in the open with other slaves. His Master didn't want them to know that he favored John, but this was a strange silence. John gave the tray to Mrs. Hudson and said good morning, receiving a kiss on the cheek and a good morning in return. He took out Sherlock's food, set it down before him, and went to eat with the other slaves again. It was fairly quiet, nobody wanting to make too much noise because their Master was close, but John was the only one listening to try and hear if anything was wrong. He heard Mrs. Hudson go out and sit down by Sherlock, the only slave to go and eat with their Master, only brave enough to because she knew that she was among the trusted of Sherlock's. Though John listened as best as he could, their words were too quiet for him to make out.

Sherlock ate in silence, not even listening to the slave’s gossip. He never did. Of course, he had heard them on occasion. He usually just ignored it unless it was something particularly insulting or if he was just in a bad mood and wanted to make an example of someone. He only picked at his food really, barely eating any of it. He got up from his seat, and finally looked over at his slave. “You'll do whatever Mrs. Hudson says today John. I don't want to be bothered until it is time for dinner.” He left the room and disappeared into the den, closing and locking the door behind him so he couldn't be bothered. He sighed and slumped into the chair behind his desk. He tried to work but was constantly distracted by his thoughts.

The blonde slave looked up in surprise when his Master spoke to him, and as soon as he was out the other slaves looked at him. John's face turned red and Mrs. Hudson spirited him out of the room before they could advance. She kept him busy for the morning, sending him on various tasks around the house and then having him care for his horse. He was still in the stables when it was time for lunch, and she took the food up to Sherlock herself.

"Sherlock, luv, open up this door before I break it down. It's time for lunch dear." She called through, having broken the door down more than once to reach him. It was normally after a few days, but she didn't want him hiding out all afternoon.

Was he just over thinking everything? Probably. He had a tendency to do that. Sherlock didn't get very much work done at all, sluggishly making his way through the monotonous paper work. He sighed at the interruption, though he wasn't surprised by it. Mrs. Hudson always tried to make sure he ate. He could always just set it aside if he really didn't want it. He was hungry though, after barely eating anything for breakfast. He got up and let her in. “Thank you, now leave. I want to be alone.” He wasn't usually so brusque with his surrogate mother but he didn't want Mrs. Hudson asking him all sorts of questions.

Mrs. Hudson walked in anyway, looking at her young Master. "I don't think so, luv. You're going to eat while I'm in here and you're going to tell me what happened this morning." She knew that if he listened she'd be lucky. She took a seat, though, and sat at his desk. "I tried to make some of your favorites, luv, but with your eating habits the way they are..." She trailed off with a shrug. The woman set out the meal and took her own cup of tea, sipping it and looking at her boy. "Now tell me what happened."

“I plan on eating Mrs. Hudson but there is nothing to discuss. Now leave. You know I don't like asking twice and usually don't give that courtesy to others. Do not think my fondness for you will always keep you safe.” Sherlock took his food and sat back down, eating it absently as he tried to focus back on his work. He wasn't in a good mood at the moment and Mrs. Hudson trying to pry and not listening to him was only making it worse really.

The woman sighed and shook her head. There were times when he listened and times when he didn't, and it seemed that the older he got the less he cared to listen. Mrs. Hudson remained where she sat for a few minutes, watching him and finishing her tea, before standing. She walked over to his side of the desk and leaned over his sitting form, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "Alright luv. Don't be a stranger. It seems I hardly see you anymore," she murmured to him and then walked out. She saw the other slaves in the kitchen eating and glanced at John. The other slaves had been harassing him, she knew, but he said nothing. The older woman sighed and went to get her own lunch.

Sherlock sighed but continued to eat, though he had stopped working. There was no way he was going to be able finish anymore today. Maybe he could talk to John later tonight. It wasn't something he'd be able to talk to Mrs. Hudson about or anyone else for that matter. Certainly not any of the other slaves. Or maybe he could just use one of his slaves and get rid of the stupid urges. He finished eating and walked out of the den to where the slaves should be finishing up eating. He snapped his finger. “You, come now.” He pointed to one of the slaves he used for pleasure every once in awhile. He heard a mumbled 'yes Sir' and he moved up the stairs, the slave following behind obediently.

When Sherlock had come into the dining area, John thought it was for him. He had stifled the urge to stand, though his legs locked momentarily with the desire to stand. He watched the other slave walk out with his Master, and felt the other’s eyes on him as soon as they were gone. He could hear whispers and giggles from them, and his face first went pale, knowing that they were fighting whatever protection he'd had from their Master was gone, and then red in embarrassment because, obviously, he wouldn't be leaving with Sherlock every time he came in.

"Guess he's not fucking the new kid..."

"You owe me an extra serving tonight..."

"Who gets first shot?"

John heard them and knew whatever tentative protection he'd had was gone. He stood up, lunch only half finished, and rushed to the kitchen. He saw Mrs. Hudson, and she smiled at him. "I...um...anyplace secluded?" He asked, motioning toward the dining room. 

Her lips pursed, and she thought a moment. "Firewood. We have enough but it never hurts to be prepared. It's always behind the stable, but be careful. You might miss the dinner bell all the way out there." She warned.

John nodded and slipped out the slave's door, heading for the barn and the trail behind it unnoticed.

Sherlock slammed the slave against the door but when he kissed the other all he could think about was John. What the hell was wrong with him? He dismissed the slave and he left his room running back down the stairs. John wasn't there anymore though. He narrowed his eyes a little and he glanced to Mrs. Hudson. Bless her. He didn't have to say anything and neither did she. He just followed her gaze out towards the door. He left in a hurry, not caring how he looked in front of the other slaves at the moment. He found John and he panted a little for breath. "John...please...I need to kiss you or something." His voice was practically begging, desperate even. Hopefully, John wouldn't resent him for putting him in his position. He had been trying to avoid it all day yet here they were anyway.

The slave had been gathering firewood and trying to decipher why he was upset Sherlock had not chosen him. It had something to do with that morning, he was certain, but he didn't know why. Not to mention the thought of Sherlock being with some other slave upset him for some reason, and he knew that was ridiculous. His Master had told him he used slaves for pleasure and torture, perhaps he was in a mood? John missed the sound of the steps running up behind him as he set the wood down and picked up the axe, but he dropped it when he heard his Master. He turned to the man, curious, but he nodded. "A kiss Sir?" He questioned even as he stepped closer to his Master. A kiss was likely all he could offer right now. Victor and Jim had never kissed him, no doubt it was safe, and John could only hope his Master wanted only a kiss and nothing more, not yet.

Sherlock stared at John a long while, wondering if he would be able to just stop at a kiss. “Probably have to finish myself off,” he muttered. “Like I did this morning.” He sighed. “It is why I've been so...weird today. I had promised you I wouldn't do anything without your say so. I didn't want to ruin things. We get on so well, I was worried asking would...anger you I guess.” He shrugged and sighed again. “I tried to use another slave but all I could think about was you and it pissed me off. I don't...understand what's going on with me...” This was all so stupid. John probably thought he was being pathetic and weak. He felt like it.

John stepped closer until their chests were almost touching, listening. He looked into his Master's eyes, his face turning red in slight embarrassment as he found out why his Master had rushed off so quickly. "Sir, I am yours. Anything you want me to do I will. I can't promise you any more than a kiss because I don't know how I will react to more than that." He smiled softly. "I don't think you can ruin things like this, Sir. I was..." John coughed into his hand. "I was actually a bit upset that you took somebody that wasn't me this afternoon. It could be that you like me. More than a slave and friend. I don't know Sir, but I'm fairly sure you said something about a kiss you have yet to make good on."

Sherlock smiled a little at John's words, glad his slave hadn't thought he was being stupid about this all. “I know you are mine John but that doesn't mean I just want to use you like some kind of whore.” He pulled his slave gently by the shirt so they could be even closer, despite that there wasn't much distance between them now to begin with. He had to tilt his head down to reach John's lips and then kissed them, his tongue pushing against the lips to get inside the mouth eagerly.

"Thank the gods for that, Sir." John took a deep breath in and put his hands on Master's hips, leaning up partially into the kiss. Their chests did press together now, and John tightened his grip on Sherlock's shirt slightly, keeping him close. He opened his mouth for his Master, first because it was expected but then because he found he really was enjoying it. He lifted one hand to hold the back of Sherlock's head, keeping him close.

Sherlock moaned softly into the kiss, his arms wrapping John's waist to pull his slave a little closer to him still. His tongue moved around in the mouth experimentally before probing at John's tongue next.  Their bodies were pressed together completely now. He only broke the kiss until he had to breathe, panting a little and he released John. “That...was good...” Very good. He had quite enjoyed that kiss, which was obvious now. He cursed himself mentally and took a step back from his slave.

John gave a deep, throaty moan of his own. He was trying to keep up with Sherlock but he had never been given much of a chance to kiss before. He actually was mentally cursing himself for fighting his past Masters so hard and never learning to kiss correctly. His face was red with pleasure and embarrassment when Sherlock pulled away, keeping a tight grip on his Master. He was a bit breathless as well, and he looked down at what had caused his Master to step back, and then smiled a little. "Um yeah. It was. I can…take care of that if you want." He was curious as to what his Master looked like erect and what he tasted like as well.

Sherlock smirked a little. He was pleased that he hadn't repulsed his slave by his reaction. “Oh God yes.” Not yet though. He wanted another kiss. He pulled John towards him, pressing his erection against his slave with moan. He pressed his tongue into John's mouth again, having enjoyed that quite a bit last time. He made this kiss last longer, breathing through his nose this time until he had to pull away to breathe properly. “What...what are you willing to do?” He didn't want to push John into anything too fast and be resented later.

John grinned a little and prepared to sink to his knees when Sherlock pulled him back in. He whined a little, deep in his throat, when he felt the erection pressed against him and felt his own cock give a twitch. He rubbed himself against it while they kissed, one hand dropping down to it because he knew how to give pleasure but didn't quite know how to kiss and he didn't want to upset Sherlock by being an idiot. He did his best to follow the other man's lead, breathing through his nose--breathing in Sherlock intimately-and pressing their tongues together. When Sherlock pulled away, John was halfway to his knees by the time he finished his sentence. He looked up at his Master and nuzzled his pelvis and crotch. This he knew how to do. He pressed a slightly open mouth to the outline of the erection in Sherlock's trousers and raised his eyebrows when he looked up at his Master, silently questioning if this would be alright.

Honestly, Sherlock wanted to kiss longer but John was already down on his knees. His breath hitched and he gave a small whimper when his slave pressed his mouth to his trousers. He looked down at John, with smile a hand began running through the hair lightly. He nodded and waited for his slave to begin sucking him off. His hand kept running through John's hair, quite enjoying it in his fingers. It was getting long and he thought about making his slave get it cut. Not too short because he liked the longer strands that he could tug at a little.

John's hands trembled slightly as he undid Sherlock's trousers. He'd never thought he'd be doing this willingly, but here he was on his knees and pulling down his Master's trousers without orders. He gazed at the released erection with a bit of trepidation; Sherlock was not small at all. Still, John opened his mouth to take a breath and then lowered his head. His Master had washed, thank the gods, and so he didn't worry about any grit getting caught in his mouth. The hands in his hair felt good, and he began to raise and lower his head slowly at first. His own cock gave another interested twitch, and John shuddered and closed his eyes when he felt Sherlock's give what could have been an answering one in his mouth. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked, trying to give his Master maximum pleasure and looked up through his eyelashes at Sherlock's face to gauge how he was doing. It seemed he was doing more than fine so far.

Sherlock thought for a moment his knees were going to buckle. He usually just used slaves and had them leave afterward. He really didn't trust any of them to suck him off, but he trusted John. Completely really. His other hand rested on his slave's back to help give himself some support, the hand in the hair continued to run through John's locks. His eyes were closed and he moaned at the feeling. He did his best not to move his hips, since fucking his slave's mouth would probably ruin things and he was enjoying things far too much to let that happen.

John was careful with his mouth. He had learned early on that too much too fast would make either his mouth shut or his gag reflex activate, but either way made a god-awful mess. He worked until he could feel Sherlock's erection in his throat, all of it slotting into his mouth. He carefully hummed, raising a hand to hold Sherlock's leg. The hands in his hair felt wonderful and he could understand why Sherlock liked to have him play with his hair in the tub. When it got difficult to breathe he moved off and then down, steadily moving faster as he waited for his Master to climax. He surprisingly didn't mind pleasuring his Master and wished to see him in ecstasy as soon as he could.

“God John,” Sherlock moaned out as his slave continued to suck on him. It was getting harder to keep still and wanting to take control. The hand in John's hair dropped to his side, to help maintain his self-control. He decided to rest it on his slave's shoulders, fingers digging in a little. He had always like things a little rougher and it was just habit really. He was certain, at this rate he would get off soon. John's mouth felt wonderful and he hadn't had this kind of pleasure with any slave before. After a bit, he came moaning John's name.

The fingers in his shoulder hurt a little but not enough to make him stop. John kept up what he was doing until he felt the warmth of Sherlock's come in his mouth, and then he swallowed as he pulled off. He leaned back onto his heels and looked up at Sherlock even as he pulled up his trousers to tie them again. "I take it that was satisfactory Sir?" He was panting a little and his own cock was half hard, but he paid it no attention.

Sherlock grinned at John. “More than that, thank you. I wasn't done kissing you though.” Another grin was given and he pulled his slave close to him again, so their lips could meet once more. He didn't care his own taste was still in John's mouth, his tongue pressing past the lips again. With their bodies together again, he could feel that his slave was getting hard. He smiled into the kiss, quite pleased with that really. As a Master though, he had never gotten anyone else off. It just wasn't done, not with slaves anyway. He pulled away from the kiss and looked down at John. “Would you be uncomfortable wanking off in front of me?

John was pleased that he had satisfied Sherlock, and he stood when he could feel his legs again. He whimpered into the kiss, holding Sherlock close, and closed his eyes. He could feel more when he did, or at least that's how it seemed. Every flick of Sherlock's tongue against his own and movement of his lips John felt clearly. He was a bit embarrassed that his Master could feel him getting harder. He had never really enjoyed sex before but he had liked getting his Master off. His entire face went red when Sherlock asked him to wank, and he looked down. "I…I don't need to, Sir, it'll…it'll disappear on its own…if you want me to I will. It probably won't bother me." Too much, at least, because he'd never been one for getting off because he'd never really had any erections. He was often too angry for them.

Oh. The answer John gave disappointed Sherlock a little but his face remained neutral. “No, its fine...don't worry about it.” He gave a small clear of his throat. “I need to get some work done, haven't really been doing any today anyway. Whenever you are ready, come to the den and continue your cleaning.” He left his slave then, not waiting for a reply. He disappeared back inside the manor and went to try and actually work. He was still distracted though, but by different thoughts. He sighed and tried to force them from his mind and did his best to focus on the papers in front of him.

John felt a little hurt when Sherlock left. He remained where he stood, watching his Master walk away and he could feel what little erection he'd had go down. He continued to work on the firewood for a bit, not wanting to face the other slaves or his Master quite yet. After a couple hours and a few stacks of firewood about two feet high he headed back. He walked back and could see the other slaves look at him, watching as he walked into the house. Mrs. Hudson sent him up with a few snacks, and he knocked when he reached the door before walking in. "Mrs. Hudson sent food Sir." He walked over to put the tray on the table.

Sherlock didn't look up when John came in. “I'm not hungry. You may eat it if you want. I have work I need to get done. So, unless it is dinner don't bother me.” He scribbled furiously at the paper, with angry harsh strokes. He wasn't even sure why he was so angry. It wasn't like some slave getting off should matter to him anyway. John wasn't just some slave though. He sighed as the stupid thoughts returned but kept on writing giving a growl of frustration when the paper tore because of his childish fit. With a sigh, he leaned back against his chair. Great. Just what he didn't need. A headache. He could feel it coming. Starting at the center of his forehead and spreading out to the rest of his head.

The slave left the tray where it was. He was getting another knot in his stomach that prevented him from eating. He moved away from the desk and towards where he had been cleaning the day before. He was getting closer and closer to the mess that was his Master's desk. He heard the growl and turned around curiously. His Master didn't look pleased and John waited until he heard a tearing sound and the paper rip to turn around again. "Are you feeling alright Sir?" He held a couple of Sherlock's notebooks again. He was tempted to take them to the room to read but he was nervous about letting his Master know he was interested in both the pleasure and pain experiments. "Do you need anything?"

Sherlock wanted to yell at John for bothering him and it wasn't dinner yet. He sighed instead and he slouched down into the chair little. “Just a headache,” he muttered. He rubbed his head a little, but it didn't help ease the tension there. “I'm trying to be a good Master to you John, because I like you. And a Master isn't supposed to let sentiment get in the way when dealing with slaves. I know I can just order you to do things, but I don't want that to be honest. I want you to be comfortable doing things with me.” He shrugged a little, unsure if that explained anything at all.

John walked over to him a bit hesitantly. "Perhaps you should take a break Sir…and rest this time." He smirked a little because they had not been resting earlier. "I am comfortable with you Sir. More so than I have ever been before. I mean…I talk with you Sir. And I tell you things. I like speaking with you and I actually like you. I'm sorry I'm a slave Sir, and I wish we could have met with me as a freeman." John put his hands on Sherlock's shoulders and then on his head, gently massaging it. He didn't want Sherlock to hurt at all. "Besides, I told you that once I killed my father I'd be your slave. I'll do anything you want me to. I told you I trust you Sir. Completely. And I'm getting more and more comfortable with you. Who knows what you'll be having me do next week? I do wish you wouldn't worry so much. We'll only get better together I think…" John was certain he was rambling now but he didn't quite care, he wanted to continue speaking soothingly to maybe calm his Master's head.

Sherlock listened to John speak and he relaxed into his slave's touch immediately. He closed his eyes as he gave a small hum appreciation from the massage. “Yes, I suppose you are right.” He was quiet a moment, as he enjoyed John's fingers on him. “When I asked if you would be comfortable wanking in front of me, you hesitated. I don't know why it upset me really. It is stupid.” He gave another shrug. “I wish I could have met you as freeman too. Someone like you doesn't deserve life as a slave. You are good man John, a much better person than I will ever be.”

"I hesitated because that's the first time I've started getting hard in years, and I have almost no practice getting off. And if I were to be in front of you I would feel like I needed to do it perfectly and if I weren't able to..." John shrugged and shook his head. It was a bit embarrassing to talk about but he had to be honest here with Sherlock. He didn't stop the massage, finding himself completely comfortable and relaxing with it. "It might have upset you because you're used to getting everything you want and when you don't get something…you get upset? I don't know Sir." John shrugged, and then chuckled. "Maybe I do, if only to look after you Sir."

Sherlock nodded slightly, not wanting to disrupt John's working fingers on him. “Perhaps next time you will be more relaxed.” He tilted his head up to smirk at his slave. “Yes, there will be a next time.” He put his head back down so John could continue the wonderful work he was doing. If he was going to be honest with himself, he wasn't interested in being with another slave or anyone else for that matter. His eyes closed again. He could get used to having his slave give him massages on daily basis like this. The tension was gone now. “Come on, I'll finish early today. We will go up to my room and you can just get my dinner when it is time.”

John grinned though his face went red at the promise of another time. He had never had a desire for sex before, but now he was eager to see what his Master would look like and what he would want the next time they met like that. He quit moving his fingers and let them rest on Sherlock's head, leaning down to press a kiss to it. "I look forward to next time Sir." He then stepped back for Sherlock to stand. "And what shall we be doing in the time before dinner Sir?" He asked with a small smirk, waiting for his Master to stand. He picked up the tray and followed Sherlock to the room, setting it down on the nightstand and then flopping on the bed as usual. He liked laying on the bed. The sheets were soft and nice, and John thought that if he could die on these sheets he could die happy.

Sherlock had noticed the blush. It looked quite...well adorable really, on John. He smirked as he got up from the chair and moved towards the bedroom. “I do too.” And he did. Usually shagging wasn't something he was interested in very much. He just did it out of curiosity at first and then afterward when he had the stupid urges to do so. It was much more interesting to watch and study it then partake in it. He ended up snagging one of his notebooks his slave had been holding. He had noticed today and was curious what John thought about his experiments. Maybe they would do one of them in his notes. He just didn't know yet. He laid down next to his slave and snuggled into John immediately. “Here. Take a look. Let me know if you want to try anything in the books.”

John turned over so he could put an arm around Sherlock. It was pretty much instinct by now, to keep Sherlock close. He flushed darker at the words and nodded, opening it. "Want me to read aloud to you or you just want to lay there?" He questioned although he was opening the notebook and beginning to read. Everything was detailed to the utmost degree with diagrams and notes that had John feeling like he would overheat. Still, there were a couple things that caught his attention. When one male had his mouth against the other's entrance to pleasure him, or the 'prostate stimulation' that was listed. John had no idea what that was despite his years of having a penis all but shoved inside of him. "Do you have an idea of one you want to do Sir?" John asked when he was a quarter way through the book and finally not blushing like a virgin on their wedding night. He was curious what his Master would like to do with him.

Sherlock merely watched as John read, smirking a little at just how much his slave blushed at some of the contents. He gave a small shrug. “I usually just use a slave to get off and that's it. I've never really done anything other than just fuck someone into the mattress or a door or wall, depending my mood. I've tried various positions. I do like having someone pressed against a wall while I take them from behind.” It probably had to do with the fact it gave him quite a bit of power and control over the entire act, something he was used to having as Master.

John nodded at his Master's words. "My other Masters preferred me on a bed. They liked their slaves face down and arse up with their hands tied behind their backs so they had no control. Master Trevor liked to fight me before he fucked me. He would start a fist fight and then use whips and chains and ropes and shirts to tie me up so that he could fuck me while I struggled." When John spoke, his words sounded as though he was discussing the news or weather. He had long since grown used to the fact that slaves were nothing and knew Sherlock most likely wouldn't care. That was before, after all, and who cared about before when John was here now? He grew quiet again, because he had noticed most of these were for pleasuring rather than just getting off and that was a foreign concept to him. He knew how to give others pleasure, because not all of his Masters had been like Victor Trevor, but he had never realized there was so much a person could do with a... a lover, it seemed, to give and gain pleasure. It was so strange and a bit difficult to wrap his mind around.

Sherlock listened quietly. He had never really been interested in using it himself, although he had done experiments with that sort of thing. He didn’t think it was in that book. He kept all his notes organized and together according to use. The one John held was all about pleasure and learning what would maximize it, for males and females. Although he had found he didn't much care about using women for pleasure himself, but it did make for interesting data. “We can avoid that kind of thing or not use them at all. I do have an entire notebook dedicated to that kind of thing should you ever get curious. But given that Victor was your last Master I didn't think it would be a good idea to bring that one up for ideas.”

"That sounds like a good idea Sir. I don't know how I would react to such a thing, despite how much I care for you." Perhaps at one point he would have liked such a thing but the way he had been used had ruined him. He was interested in quite a few things the book depicted, but he didn't think that they could do all of them so easily. At one point, he began giggling. "Sir, you had them use cucumbers? And duster handles?" He couldn’t help but laugh. It seemed so ridiculous and he couldn't imagine how such things could cause pleasure, but it must because in both cases the men ejaculated successfully. "Is there anything you haven't tried?"

Sherlock nodded and then smirked at the question. “There are plenty of things I personally haven't tried but I have watched others do all sorts of things. I like to watch. For scientific purposes,” he clarified quickly. “I've never gotten off watching it.” He shrugged a little. He supposed plenty of others would have but he just wanted the data really. “I have another book all about fetishes. Food, body parts, and plethora of other things.”

"Ah." John closed the book and set it down so he could turn and, weary of his shoulder, look at his Master. "There are quite a few interesting things in there, Sir. A number of them, I’d like to try as well. Should I make a list of things I'd like to do?" He put his other hand on Sherlock's hip. He knew that the bell for dinner was due to ring soon but he didn't really care. He could be late, for what it mattered to him. He looked at his Master's face, taking in the strange attractiveness of it, and could see why Dr. Hooper had been attracted to him.

Sherlock nodded. “That would be fine. I'd be willing to try anything once. If one of us doesn't like it, we won't do it again. And obviously if neither of us like we wouldn't either.” He smiled as John stared at him and he leaned in to kiss his slave on the lips. He had quite liked that earlier and wanted to try it some more. He reached out and tugged at John's shirt gently to pull his slave on top of him. He had thought about just rolling on top of John but he wasn't sure how his slave would feel about that right now. Maybe later when they were more comfortable around he each other.

John smiled, prepared to get up and get some paper to write on. "Obviously." He leaned in the last bit to meet Sherlock's lips. He squeaked a little when Sherlock pulled him on top, but he didn't fight it. He pushed himself a little to make getting up onto his Master a bit easier and pressed back against him, liking how their tongues felt together. He was glad to be on top, and he wiggled a little to settle himself more against Sherlock. He knew that the longer they kissed the more interest his penis would show in the proceedings, and wasn't sure how to act once it did. John decided he'd cross that bridge when he came to it, keeping his eyes open and looking at his Master's.

“Mmm,” Sherlock murmured as they continued to kiss. He liked the way John tasted. He heard the dinner bell downstairs go off. “Ignore it,” he muttered as he pulled away from his slave. He wanted John all to himself right now. Of his own doing, he hadn't seen much of John today and had missed his slave's presence. He pulled John down for another kiss, making sure this one lasted longer than the last one since the first one had been interrupted by the stupid bell. Kissing was much more interesting than eating in his opinion.

John didn't mind staying with Sherlock. They had snacks on the nightstand, and Sherlock was the Master of the house. "As you wish Sir." John had no problem with skipping dinner. While he was with his Master the other slaves could think what they wanted; he knew none of them had ever been in a position like this. Despite the fact lunch had not been very fulfilling John could not be bothered to care about dinner. He moaned into Sherlock's mouth, nipping on his Master's tongue without realizing it. He took it into his mouth to suck on it and lick it once he did, finding that his Master tasted better than he'd have thought.

Sherlock smiled into the kiss and didn't mind that John had nipped his tongue. He liked that, really. He let the kiss last for quite some time but eventually he needed to pull away to breathe. He smiled up at John, reaching up to stroke his slave's face while he got his breath back. “I've never taken the time to kiss a slave before, but with you I don't mind.” He would mark his slaves sure, leaving them covered with bruises from his mouth. He pulled John down for another kiss, not caring about eating at all or what any of his other stupid slaves thought.

John was glad for the chance to breathe. He had been getting a little light headed from the kiss, and he smiled back at Sherlock. "I've never been really kissed before. Nobody's ever taken the time to kiss me." He arched his back onto his Master slightly. He was getting harder between his legs, and his face turned red when it became incredibly obvious just how much he was enjoying it. He closed his eyes and whimpered a little, the slight friction of his hard length against his trousers and his Master's leg stimulating him easily.

Sherlock pulled away from the kiss, a grin on his face. He had already gotten off twice today, so it was unlikely he would get hard again for a third time anytime soon. “You should take your trousers off.” It wasn't a command really. Just a gentle suggestion to help ease John into everything going on. Although it seemed his slave was more comfortable this time around than last so maybe things would go on without any problems or complications.

John followed him for a moment, stretching his neck to lengthen the kiss a bit. He didn't really want to be separated in any way, though it made him feel slightly pathetic. The words made his eyes go wide, but he nodded. It would either be more or less stimulation, but hopefully he'd actually be able to get off this time. John shifted up so that he was sitting on his Master’s lap instead of laying on him, and then stood so he could remove his trousers. Once they were off, he turned back to his Master. He felt ridiculous, with only his top on, so he took that of as well before reseating himself on Sherlock's lap and leaning back down over him. His shoulder was barely bothering him.

Sherlock smiled as he watched John undress, fascinated with the act despite the fact he had seen plenty of slave undress in front him before. “Everything will be okay,” he assured his slave. He leaned up to kiss John again, moaning softly into his slave's mouth as his tongue pushed its way inside. He arched up into John a bit, rubbing his trousers against his slave's erection purposefully. He hoped it wouldn't startle John too much and he continued the kiss, quite enjoying it.

John couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. "Of course, it will be okay. I've got you." He bent over to kiss him in return. His neck, face, and upper part of his chest was red in flushed embarrassment. It wasn't a bad embarrassment, though, rather a pleasant sort because he knew his nakedness pleased his Master. He whimpered when he felt the trousers against his erection, pressing down to get more friction. "More, Sir, please."

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk and when he pulled away from the kiss, he began kissing John's neck next. He barely took time to breathe in between those moments, as he marked his slave eagerly. Oh God. John was begging. So perfect. It was very pleasing to him. He rubbed up against his slave again, with a little more force so it would cause even more friction. He had taken plenty of notes on how to pleasure others and he knew what he was doing. John was responding in a positive way and there was no reason to change tactics. It was strange to be trying to get his slave off when he wasn't even hard himself. However, he was enjoying everything so he didn't mind this at all.

John was confused for a minute as to why his Master had quit kissing him when the pressure on his neck began. It was only pressure for about three seconds before he recognized the wet and firmness of teeth against his neck as well. "Ohhngh." He moaned, tilting his head back. John liked it and wanted more. He put his hands on his Master's shoulders, gripping him tightly, and gave a louder moan when Sherlock rubbed up against him. "Oh, god, Sir. Please, Sir, it feels so good." He was a bit startled by the force of how much he was enjoying this, but he had never been given pleasure before and was thoroughly enjoying it. He hoped Sherlock was as well, because he didn't think he could stop.

Another smirk as John continued to moan and beg. He liked hearing it. It was exciting to him. Too bad it was still soon for him to be able to get a hard on. He moved his moth to the other side of his slave's neck so it could be marked properly as well. He wrapped his arms around John's waist, hands gripping firmly onto the arse and pushed his slave down as he moved up with his hips again, to maximize the friction caused. This was going to make a hell of a mess, if he managed to get John off without even really touching his slave. It would be interesting to see if he could do it though. John wasn't just some experiment to him though. This...was more than that.

John shifted as his Master did, tilting his head so it was easier for Sherlock to get his skin. He continued to moan and beg, even increasing it a bit, once he noticed how much his Master liked it. He seemed to get harder when his Master pulled him down and thrust up against up, causing John to shake and lean forward, feeling almost boneless with pleasure. He could feel his climax getting closer, remembering the feeling from the few times he had successfully had an orgasm. "I'm close, Sir.' John gasped, almost whining. He tightened his grip on his Master and moved his hips more, faster and losing whatever rhythm he'd had.

Sherlock was enjoying all the sounds John was making. “Good,” he murmured into his slave's skin. He continued to mark John's neck, it was quite thoroughly covered now. He was pleased with his handiwork. When his slave began the erratic movements, he stopped his own to let John do what was needed. It was difficult to time things right when there was no rhythm anymore. He did keep his hands on his slave's arse and he squeezed but not harshly.

Within a few minutes of John's warning he came, and hard. It had been years since his last ejaculation, and he had been a little hard since their earlier encounter. He cried out as he came, first just a groan and then he moaned " _Sherlock_ ," almost under his breath. He was unable to stop the name from escaping his lips, and he shook for a moment tiredly as he came down from the high. His mind was shorting out a bit, and he was panting. When he got his breath back he pressed a kiss to his Master's face, partly on his lip and partly on his cheek. 'I could fall in love with him.' John thought, though he didn't focus on it.

Sherlock had stopped kissing John to watch his slave climax with interest and fascination. He smirked as he heard his name. He reached up hand to run through John's hair lightly. There was a mess on both of them, but he didn't care about that at the moment. They could clean up later. He moved his mouth to his slave's ear to whisper in it. “You may call me by my first name, but only when you come. I liked hearing my name on your lips.”  He smiled and began nibbling on the ear, he had just spoken in to see if that would elicit some sort of a response.

John was still shaking lightly when Sherlock spoke. He was tender and sensitive, but he leaned on his Master and nodded. "You...your name is lovely." He closed his eyes and tried to relax. He moaned when he felt the teeth on his ear but couldn't give any other response. He was just a bit too tired to get hard again, and he wasn't a teenager with a rampant libido either. "S-sir I can't...it's too much." He moaned softly but didn't try to get away. He rather liked it, actually, and leaned on his Master to wait for anything more he wished to give.

Sherlock smiled but stopped teasing John. “I will have to remember that for later.” He let John collapse on him if it was needed. “I take it that was good for you.” He stroked the back of his slave's head. They were going to need to get up and clean up eventually but he wanted to keep his slave in his arms awhile longer. It was comforting and nice. He was glad he had finally told John what was going on, because it had only made things better between them.

John grinned tiredly and nodded. "Yes Sir…very good." He leaned on Sherlock completely. He felt sticky and sweaty and a bit nasty but couldn't be bothered too much yet. "I've never…done anything like that before. It was…amazing, Sir." John pressed a kiss to Sherlock's neck and sighed. He knew that if he didn't go down and get dinner soon, Mrs. Hudson would come up the stairs and bother them and he didn't want that. He just wanted to lay in bed with his Master. John pulled his legs up a little so he could hold Sherlock better, and nuzzled his neck.

Sherlock smirked, the hand still running through John's hair. “Good. I haven't either. But I have seen things like this done before. I take rather detailed notes.” He turned his head to kiss the side of his slave's. “You do know at some point we are going to have to get up and get cleaned up.” He chuckled a little but didn't bother to get up. He wasn't in a hurry to remove either of them from their current position. “Not yet though. This is nice. I don't want to move.”

His shakes steadily subsided and John hummed an agreement, loving the hand in his hair. "I noticed that Sir. A couple of those notes you took caught my attention." He sighed at the thought of moving. "I don't want to. I like it right here." On top of his Master, sated and warm and comfortable. "I'm just a bit afraid that if we don't get up soon Mrs. Hudson will come to the door and she's been making comments about us since I got back." He liked the kiss to the side of his head, and mumbled incoherent but agreeing words at the prospect of not getting up.

Sherlock smirked a little at the mention of Mrs. Hudson. “I would like to think she would know better.”  Especially considering all the noise John was making, half the manor had probably heard his slave anyway. Would that bother John? He wasn't sure how shy his slave was about such things. Although John certainly hadn’t been shy at all just moments a go. He smirked a little at the thought, having enjoyed every single sound his slave had emitted.

John could feel the smirk against his skin and he shook his head indulgently. "She probably does and will come up to bother us anyway." John reluctantly pulled away, getting up and putting on some clothes. "I'll bring dinner back for us Sir." He headed for the door before Sherlock could argue. He headed down to the kitchen swiftly and turned red at seeing the slaves staring at him. He hadn't been that loud, had he? In any case, he all but ran to the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson gave him a wink and sent him upstairs with food and drink. There were whispers and stares as John passed the other slaves again, and he did his best not to trip. When he returned to the room he set the tray down on the nightstand, moving the other tray, and crawled on top of Sherlock. "I didn't think I was that loud…I think they all know…" He curled up a little on top of his Master.

Sherlock scowled as John left. He hadn't told his slave he could leave. He was still the Master damn it. He sighed and took off his soiled clothing, tossing them on the floor. Maybe he was just being childish or would John test the boundaries to see what else he could get away with? Would he let his slave do whatever now? He was letting sentiment get in the way. He looked up at John when came back in and couldn't help the smirk that crossed his lips. “You were quite loud but I found it rather pleasing. I didn't even really do anything.” He reached a hand up to run through his slave's hair once more. He found he like touching it and couldn't stop himself from doing it now.

"It's embarrassing, Sir..." John mumbled the words, sliding so that he was more on his side and it was easier to lean against his Master. "They were all looking at me and Mrs. Hudson winked." He sighed, though, because he knew that it would likely happen again. Maybe if it hadn't been in a place where he was living with other slaves around as well he wouldn't mind it so much, but he knew that they'd be staring the next day. "I brought the food, Sir, if you're ready to eat…it all smells quite good, as usual." There was meat and bread and wine for Sherlock, and the same but water for John. He closed his eyes and relaxed further, though, the longer Sherlock touched his hair. It felt wonderful.

Sherlock smirked again but it faded a little after a moment. “Are you going to want to stop then?” A frown came to his lips then. He should probably eat though, though he wasn't feeling very hungry. He let his hand fall to his side and he shifted to a sitting position. He picked a little at the food but he did drink his wine. He was worrying now. Probably no real need to be. He looked over at John curiously, as he managed to shovel some food into his mouth.

"Stop what Sir?" John asked, looking up at Sherlock in confusion. He sat up in order to pull some food over to eat, taking a couple bites before speaking again. "Stop…making noises? I doubt I could unless you gagged me or something, and honestly I'm not real big into that." He smiled at Sherlock and then, carefully cutting the meat with the fork and knife. "If you want me to stop, or you want to stop everything, we can. I'd rather not, though." He was speaking honestly, not looking at Sherlock and coughed to hide a small, light flush.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows as John spoke, a slow smirk finding its way to his lips as he gradually became relieved. He shrugged a little. “I thought maybe you wouldn't want to do that sort of thing anymore if you found it too embarrassing. It might even make things more difficult than they already are with the other slaves. If that's even possible. But...I don't want to stop anything either. Everything thus far has been quite enjoyable and you have to make that list for me, so we can try all sorts of things.” With his improved mood back, came his appetite and he began eating normally.

John could see the relief easily in his Master's body and he smiled fondly. "No, Sir. I don't want to stop. Everything was made a bit more difficult this morning anyway, I doubt anything can get worse. I was trying to fit in with them and do a little reconnaissance but…they're all ridiculous and have their own groups. Mrs. Hudson is the lynch pin, you know. Everybody likes and respects her." Mrs. Hudson was the lynch pin, a favored slave, and John was a new favored slave that nobody really knew anything about. He ate rather quickly, knowing he should probably slow down but enjoying the food too much to care.

Sherlock nodded, a genuine smile coming to his lips. “Good. I'm glad. And don't bother trying to get in with those slaves, it isn't worth it. Yes, Mrs. Hudson is quite remarkable. Only an idiot wouldn't like her.” For some reason, this conversation reminded him he was going to downsize the manor staff a bit and sell off some slaves. He could get rid of the ones who would likely cause the most trouble. The ones that complained the most were usually the ones who didn’t work as hard anyway, so it would serve as a dual purpose.

The slave swallowed his food, momentarily startled by how beautiful his Master was when he truly smiled. Unable to help himself, he leaned over and gave Sherlock a firm kiss, holding the back of his head to him tightly for a moment and then going back to his food. He couldn't stop himself from pressing their lips together when his Master gave smiles like that. "I know a few who might be idiotic enough to not like her…but if they don't they're quiet about it." Speaking of quiet, John thought back to lunch and who had made some of the comments. He turned to Sherlock curiously. "What is your opinion of fights in the house?"

Sherlock was not expecting the kiss but the smile got bigger and he returned it, eyes closing briefly at the taste and feeling. He frowned a little John's question. “Not tolerated. I need my slaves to be able to work, that can't happen if they break a bone or something worse. If they step out of line, then I deal with them personally. Then I make the decision if the loss of them being able to work is worth it, in all cases the answer is yes. There are other ways to get back at people besides fighting, you just have to know how to go about doing it. I won't be dragged into it though John. It is stupid and petty.”

"Alright Sir. I was simply curious. I know some Masters encourage it and others outlaw it and was curious where you stood." Because there were a number of slaves he'd heard disrespecting Mrs. Hudson, though they were generally led by one Phillip Anderson, and if he'd been allowed John would call him out. It appeared that he'd have to be sneaky about it though, and that was alright with him. Once he finished his meat he began on his roll, looking out the window to the stables. He could faintly see the brindle color that signaled his horse was out once again. He found that the horse was a quiet but mischievous sort, and was healing quite well. "How much more work do you have to do Sir? Being cooped up can't be any fun."

“A lot. Mycroft left with me with it all, if not more than when I left. Probably brought me more just to annoy me and to make sure I stay focused on the family business. I will also need to arrange to start selling off some slaves. I already have a few in mind who are lazier than others but if you think someone needs to be sent away, I'm sure they could find their way onto the list to be sold. Keep in mind, the more I get rid of the more work for everyone else. So, while it might seem an easy fix, it might actually make things worse.” Sherlock stared at John for a long while, curiously. “The other houses were there as many slaves, was it like it is here?”

John chuckled at that. Mycroft truly was an older brother, dumping some of the work onto his younger brother as revenge for leaving him. That sounded correct. "Well, Phillip Anderson for certain. He's a right prat, and I heard him bad mouthing Mrs. Hudson. He's the reason I asked. Then there was a woman with brown hair who agreed with everything he said, and some older man with glasses who called you a freak. I wanted to chin him." John frowned, and then turned his head to look at his Master with his eyebrows raised. "The others?" He leaned back a little, working on remembering. "They were…large. Often unruly. The Masters would generally have foremen or watchers to keep slaves in line. They were free with their whips, especially after a night drinking. The slaves were left to govern themselves apart from some basic guidelines set out by the Master. They had a few head slaves, but nobody really liked them. And sometimes they'd have slave fighting where the slaves could call each other out for fun." Some of those places should have been impossible for John to be kicked out of, but he'd managed it.

Sherlock ate quietly while he listened to John. He was used to being called a freak really. He didn't really pay attention to the gossip but that didn't mean he was completely oblivious to it. “Fine, those three along with some others that I don't think work as well as they should.” He swirled his wine glass in thought for a moment before he took a sip. “You already advised me against having foremen and other people coming to work at the manor, thus the downsizing. Is having head slaves worth it?” He had finished eating and he set his tray aside.

"Thank the gods." John spoke under his breath with a grin. He knew he didn't have to say it so low, but it seemed appropriate to. He thought about the head slaves for a moment, and then shrugged. "It is if they're good at what they do. Mrs. Hudson would be good for it, definitely, and it wouldn't hurt to get her opinion on who she thinks would be good for a head job as well." He finally answered, after some careful thought on it. He knew that, although Sherlock was a harsh Master, he was fair. The other slaves would work well and happier if they didn't have to take orders directly to him or Mrs. Hudson.

“Mmmm, maybe we'll see after I sell off some slaves. I don't want to change too much, too fast.” Sherlock got up and he went over to his violin, picked it up and began playing. Mrs. Hudson must have put it there for him, while he had been moody. It helped him to think and focus sometimes, or even calm down. Sort things out. He closed his eyes while he played, using muscle memory to still play. He danced around the room in time the music. Dancing was a guilty pleasure of his and he had started to do so without much thought what John would say or think. Only a few people knew he liked it and yet he had done so in front of his slave without any worry at all.

"Yes Sir." John was glad he could be of use to the other. He finished his meal and spread out on the bed. He still had to get a bath ready for them, but his Master had picked up his violin and…he was _playing_. It wasn't just watching a person play, it was like watching art. Before he knew what he was doing, he had found a song to match the rhythm and tune of the song Sherlock was playing and had opened his mouth to sing along. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched his Master with bright eyes.

Sherlock had missed playing and there had been a few occasions while away on his mission with John, he had wished he'd brought his instrument with him. He smiled a little as he heard his slave singing but for the most part he just let himself get lost in the music. It was almost as relaxing as when John gave him a massage. He finished after awhile, because he really did need to bathe. He had already disrobed his dirty clothes but his body was still sticky. He put his violin down with care and turned to his slave. “Time to get clean along with one your wondrous massages. If I don't fall asleep this time, you can read tonight too.”

John continued singing while Sherlock played and danced, tapping his foot to the beat. His Master looked utterly blissful, and John was curious as to how often he got to play because he wanted to. It wasn't his place to ask, though, so he didn't. Instead he continued singing a bit after Sherlock quit playing, while he put the violin away, and then stood up with a smile. "Indeed Sir. May I bathe as well?" He headed for the bathroom after taking Sherlock's hand gently. He set it up quickly, and then turned to wait for his Master to come in. "I bet you'll fall asleep again."

“Yes, we can bathe at the same time if you want. We both seemed to fit all right last time. It just means you will have to wash your Master, since he is just a lazy arse.” Sherlock smirked at John as he walked into the bathroom. He got into the tub, enjoying the heat of the water on his body. “You are probably right. It just feels so damn good though.” Which was true enough. He liked the feeling of his slave's fingers on his body. It was quite relaxing and comforting.

"That he is. Although from what I've seen of it his arse, it is quite nice." He'd seen it while they had been on their little adventure together, after all. He got in after his Master did, sitting down across from him. He grabbed the soap off the side of the tub and wet the cloth and soaped it up, scooting forward to sit between them. John smiled at Sherlock and began to scrub him down. "Are you going to wash me again, or do I have to do it myself?" John asked jokingly, thinking that if they had done this when he'd been shot the times Sherlock bathed him would have been a bit more fun.

Sherlock relaxed into John's touch. Something he found himself doing constantly lately, but he didn't mind. He was just rather quite comfortable with his slave. “You dare ask your Master to have to work?” He smirked a little at John. While he was being washed and his slave was close enough he stole a quick on the lips. He couldn't help himself. John was just so close and he enjoyed kissing his slave a lot really. He was curious what things John would be interested in trying and found himself looking forward to reading the list his slave came up with.

"Well, he mentioned being lazy. I wanted to know if he wanted the chance to work or not, but I suppose he doesn't like touching me that much." John sighed dramatically. He was careful as he washed his Master's shoulders and bruises, not wanting to cause him pain, and was weary of his own injuries as well. He gave a high-pitched grunt of surprise at the kiss but smiled and pressed into it as long as his Master did. When they were through bathing he would go through the book again and make his list. He didn't know how many his Master would be interested in performing, but he was intrigued in quite a bit of it. He knew that he could choose what he wanted and hoped that, even if they were in the middle of an act his Master would stop if John asked him to. He believed Sherlock would but didn't trust him quite that much yet. With his life, completely. With his body and heart…not quite so faithfully.

“Well, I suppose I can bothered then. Maybe make a habit out of it, if I find that I like touching you.” Sherlock smirked again and it got bigger when he heard the surprised noise John made. He leaned into to kiss his slave again, arms wrapping around John so he could scoot a little closer to his slave. There wasn't much room to move but he managed a few centimeters forward. He didn't pull away quickly like the last one. He wanted this one to last longer, eyes closing in contentment.

"I hope you like touching me, Sir. I like it when you do." He grinned and spread his legs as much as he could to accommodate Sherlock getting in so close to him. John watched his Master's face before closing his eyes and relaxing into the kiss. He liked the way it felt when Sherlock kissed him, and with a small desire to experiment he took in a breath when Sherlock breathed out. It was strange to take the air from his Master into his lungs, and interesting, but he pulled back a moment to chuckle. "Sorry Sir, I wanted to see what that would be like." He leaned back in to kiss him again. John hated to close his eyes when they kissed, wanting to see the faces his Master made as they kissed.

Sherlock smiled when the kiss was broken momentarily. “I find I like touching you quite a bit and no need to apologize. It was interesting for me too.” He was pleased the kiss was started again, his tongue pressing against the lips to seek entrance into the mouth once more. He ran his hands over John's back a little, fingers feeling all the different scars there. They could wash up a little bit later, right now he was snogging with his slave and he didn't want to stop. Though they probably shouldn't do it too long, least the water get too cold.

John was glad that his Master didn't mind the fact he had experimented a little. He knew Sherlock liked to and wondered how many he'd perform on John. He opened his mouth for his Master willingly, liking the way their tongues played together. He had never realized that fun could be had just with kissing and sex had always been something to fight. He leaned into the feeling of Sherlock's hands on his back, feeling his scars from the times he was disobedient or simply convenient for anybody to beat and let out their anger at the time. "I'm not very handsome, Sir. I'm rather plain." He pulled back and ducked his head. "And my body is no longer attractive either..."

Sherlock smiled a little. “Your body is a bit battered but still strong. Besides I like you for that mind of yours, even if it is ordinary. You've a mouth on you too, but I don't mind it too much either.” He gave a smirk. “Now finish washing your Master before the water loses its temperature. Otherwise I might have to find another way to keep me warm.” The smirk got bigger as he settled back a little so John could finish his work. He leaned his head back against the wall, to get more comfortable.

John flushed a little, though this time with happiness. He was glad his Master didn't mind his body. Although he was not overweight, he had a couple love handles despite his muscle thanks to the feeding and rest he'd been getting. He grinned at his Master, rolling his eyes. "After today I was hoping you'd like my mouth more than just tolerating it." He leaned forward to finish washing Sherlock. He only had to wash off his stomach and legs, and did so quickly. He was careful while cleaning his Master's length, keeping his touches there clinical and only to clean. Once he finished he began to wash himself. "I wouldn't mind you having another way to warm up. It will help in the winter I'm sure."

Sherlock smirked. “I suppose I more than tolerate your mouth at this point.” He leaned close to John again. “I thought you wanted to be washed by me, did you change your mind?” He cocked an eyebrow but took the cloth as he did so. He washed gently and carefully, but with meticulous detail like he did in everything else. It didn't take long though and he finished after a few moments. “Unplug the tub.” He got out, grabbing a towel for each of them.

John let him take the cloth. "I wasn't sure you wanted to Sir." He relaxed and let Sherlock wash him. It was nice, now that he wasn't completely in pain. Now that he had time to catalogue the sensations, and how careful Sherlock was with his body. When Sherlock told him to unplug the tub he pressed a kiss to the other man's lips and then the outside of his hip. While he unpluged the tub he thought about something he wanted to do--have free reign over his Master and taste his entire body. He'd propose the idea in his list, he decided, and stood to grab his towel. He dried himself off quickly and smiled at Sherlock.  "Now do you want a massage tonight or do you want me to read to you?" He asked as they headed back for the bed.

Sherlock thought about that question for moment. “Massage. I'll try to stay awake for my bedtime story.” He smiled at that, as he put on some pants and simple trousers to sleep in. He laid down on the bed, face first into the pillow like he had last time. “Perhaps instead of reading the book, you can read me that list. I definitely can stay awake for that.” He turned his head to smirk up at John before he turned his head back into the bed.

"I have yet to write it sir. Do you want me to read it to you as I do?" John asked in some amusement as he put on trousers but no pants. The slave got on the bed and sat on his Master's hips again, stretching himself carefully and then leaning over his back. He started at the top of Sherlock's neck, using his thumbs and fingers carefully. He couldn't stop himself from placing a few kisses onto Sherlock's neck as he worked his way down.

“That will be fine, yes.” Sherlock groaned at the fingers on his neck, enjoying the feeling already. He gave a hum of appreciation from the kisses, he liked that too. He relaxed immediately at the touches. “God, that feels wonderful John.” He closed his eyes, but he wasn't sleeping. He was very content at the moment. It didn't take long for the tension to leave his body. He didn't have much to begin with, considering how relaxed he had been to begin with. “That's enough. Come, I want to hear this list of yours.”

John liked the sound of Sherlock groaning beneath him, and thought he could understand why his Master liked to be on top. "I'm glad you like it Sir. I'm glad it makes you feel good." He pressed one more kiss to Sherlock's back before getting off and allowing him to sit up. He looked around for paper and a pencil, and when he found it he sat down on the bed with the clean tray and set it down. He wrote 'John's List' on the top and grabbed the notebook. He curled up next to his Master and flipped through the notebook, but the first thing he wrote and said aloud, with a red face, was 'Taste Sherlock all over'.

Sherlock flipped over and sat up, propping a pillow up behind his head. He leaned his head on John's shoulder and read the list as it was written, even though his slave was speaking it out loud. “Taste me all over, hm? Perhaps. We will see.” He wasn't sure if he was willing to give up that kind of control or be the vulnerable. It wasn't that he didn’t trust John, he did. As a Master, he was used to be in charge of everything. He had said that he would try to whatever his slave wanted to. “Later,” he amended. “Let’s hear what else you want to do.”

John nodded, pleased. He wanted to taste every inch of his Master's pale skin. He wanted to know the difference between his shoulders and his knees, the texture of his neck and his ankles, and where he was the saltiest or muskiest…John just wanted to know. He flipped through the notebook, writing down page numbers and brief descriptions. 'Fellatio', though he'd already done that to Sherlock he wanted to do it again, and 'frottage', because he wanted Sherlock to do it against him as well, were a couple of the first few; and then he added 'rimming' because there was no other word for the act, 'prostate stimulation', 'anal fingering', and a number of other things. By the time he was finished he had half of the page full, and John was curious if they'd even manage that much. Then again, they were both fairly young, they had their whole lives if Sherlock didn't get rid of him. "Sir, how old are you? I've told you my age but I never did find out yours." John remembered that although he'd informed Sherlock of his age when he told him about his twelve years as a slave he had never found out how old his Master was. He didn't look any older than John, but not a teenager. That meant he had to be between twenty and twenty-four, but John knew there were some people who looked quite a bit younger than their age.

Sherlock listened and watched as John told him and made the list. He had never really done any of them, only seen it done but he had a very good memory so he shouldn't have to study the notebook too much, if at all. He raised his eyebrows a bit at his slave's question. He had never been asked his age before. "Twenty-three, why?" Maybe John was just curious. "I'm not really tired yet, read to me from the book for a bit?" His slave was probably more exhausted than he was. John did do far more work than he did, most of it taxing manual labor.

"Just curious, Sir. I thought you looked younger than myself, but I wasn't entirely certain." John gave a dismissive shrug. He nodded, finished with his list for now. He set it aside on the nightstand again and picked up the book they were reading. He waited for Sherlock to rearrange himself, and then John did the same. He opened the book, but didn't read immediately. "You know Sir, if you wake up like you did this morning…you can wake me up and I can help you with it."

Sherlock nodded a bit and rearranged himself, so he was leaning against John's shoulder. He couldn't help but smirk a bit as his slave's offer. “I'll keep that in mind. It almost never happens though. Might just give you a proper shagging, whenever it does happen though. That is if you are ready for that.” He arched a brow at John curiously. He wasn't sure if his slave was up for that yet. He didn't want to rush things. It would only ruin how perfect everything was between them.

John liked having his Master so close to him. It was comforting, and he sighed pleasantly. At the words from his Master he looked in front of him. "I don't know Sir. I might be. I can't tell you right now. I would hate to start and then be unable to. You're…rather large. Much larger than Master Trevor. I'd…like for you to be inside me but I don't know if I could handle it or not. I'm sorry." John dropped his head and stared at the book, frowning. He didn't want to disappoint him, not at all, but he wasn't certain how he could handle being fucked until he was put in the position.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. He had never really thought about his size before. John was the first one to even ever make mention of it. Then again, his slaves were trained to be seen and not heard. John was different of course. His one exception. “What about if we used some olive oil from the kitchen? Would that be better? Or at least make things easier for you maybe? I could go slow too.” That really wasn't his style but he would try so things would work between him and his slave.

John stared at Sherlock in shock for a moment, and then smiled widely. "I've…that might work, Sir. I've…do you mean stretching me before you fuck me?" It had never really been done to him before. Perhaps that would be the change of where he wouldn't be afraid. "And nobody's ever gone slow before…I'm sure we can work up to where there is no need for it but I believe that we may need to in the beginning Sir." John smiled brightly at Sherlock at the prospect. He wondered if his Master would get bored of going slow, or if he would remain easy with John at first.

Sherlock returned the smile, pleased that John was. “We'll work something out. Figure it out together and then find what works with us.” He was quiet a moment. “I have never gone slow before, but I am sure I can manage. I will.” He gave his slave a small reassuring smile. He had never made such an effort for a slave before, but with John he was willing to try. He was rather committed to keeping John happy really. He hoped his slave realized that.

John could tell that it was strange for Sherlock. He could tell that this was strange for him, to care, but that he was willing to try. The thought that he could fall in love with this man ran through his mind again. The slave flushed and ducked his head a moment, before leaning over to kiss his Master happily. If he had not already overstated it, he would have uttered the words "best Master ever" once again. As it was, he simply kissed his Master and pulled back to smile. "I will do my best to get over it." Although he knew that wasn't really how it worked, that was how his thought process was. Anything to make his Master happy.

Sherlock returned the kiss, a smile on his lips. “Just give it time and I am sure you will.” He gave John a small pat the shoulder to help reassure his slave. “Now, read to me. I like listening to your voice.” He scooted closer to John even more, his head coming to rest on his slave's shoulder once more. He was comfortable and liked being close with John. He even went as far as to slip his arm through his slave's. Just so he could be snuggled in next to John even more.

John hummed happily and nodded. He waited for Sherlock to settle before looking at the book. In perhaps two weeks at most, they would be finished. They would have to find a new book to read then. Setting his head on top of Sherlock's, John began to read. He kept his voice low, wanting to make sure that if his Master felt like sleeping he would be able to without having to deal with John bothering him. Within half an hour the events of the day were wearing on John and he began to tire, his voice slurring and eyelids dropping, but he continued until he knew his Master was asleep.

Sherlock listened to John read. “Sleep.” He gave his slave a quick kiss on the lips and gently took the book away from him. He marked the page and then put it on the nightstand near them. He slouched down onto the bed, pulling the covers up over both of them. He curled into John's side, an arm draping over his slave. He was only a little tired but he closed his eyes anyway. It took some time before he finally fell asleep but it was peaceful next to John.

Even with the book taken away and his Master curled up beside him, John continued to mumble. He didn't stop until he was asleep against Sherlock, jaw slack and curled up against him like they were two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly. He slept well, not a dream or nightmare marring his sleep. He woke in the morning before his Master, as the sun was beginning to peek up over the trees, and he smiled tiredly as he looked at his Master. The slave dozed, waiting for Sherlock to wake, and finding peace in his still, warm form beside him.


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock didn't wake until it was almost time for breakfast. Maybe he had been more tired than he realized. “John, it’s time to get up and start the day. You will go back to cleaning the den, while I work in there.” He gave his slave a good morning kiss before disentangling their bodies and got out of bed. He disrobed, clothes falling to the floor like usual. He got dressed in his usual, posh attire. He waited by the door for John to be ready to go as well, before leaving his room.

John was glad to see Sherlock wake. The man looked like a child when he fell asleep and woke up. John could see the face of the boy Mrs. Hudson had loved when he did. The slave gave a dramatic groan at the mention of work but quieted at the kiss. He didn't like not being tangled up with Sherlock and gave a quiet sigh as he stood up and moved the clothes into the dirty clothes bin before changing his own. He put on pants and trousers for the day, and then a nice shirt. He followed his Master out into the hallway and then the dining room, going to sit with the other slaves as usual. Mrs. Hudson brought out Sherlock's food once he was seated and kissed the top of his head lovingly.

"That's my 'locky." She murmured the words happily, hugging him before returning to the kitchen and passing out the food for the other slaves.

Sherlock sat down and gave Mrs. Hudson a small smile, murmuring a thank you before he began eating his food. He was in a good mood, and he knew she could tell. Maybe even some of the more observant slaves had noticed too. He didn't pay much attention to it though. He ate quietly, keeping to himself like he almost always did. There was a knock at the front door and he frowned a little, wondering what that could be about. He didn't bother getting up because he knew one of the slaves would get it. Said slave brought him back a message, after apologizing for interrupting his meal, bowed and then left. He took the rolled-up piece of paper and undid the ribbon around it. It was from Victor. He would be dropping by today. He had heard that he had broken John and wanted to see for himself. He set his jaw, the good mood broken just like that. He scowled and crumbled the paper, tossing it to the ground and then disappeared into the den without a word.

John noticed a couple of the slaves watching him but he acted like he didn't notice. As usual there were whispers and rumors running around, but John ignored them. Sherlock had told him not to pay attention to them, and while it would have been nice to have a friend among the slaves besides Mrs. Hudson it was obvious that they weren't interested in him. He ate quietly, thinking of how much he had to clean today and how much work Sherlock had to do. He heard the knock on the door and all the slaves seemed to wait for just a split second before one stood and hurried to it. He came back a few minutes later, sat down, whispered something into his friend’s ear and then stared at John. It didn't take long for John to understand why. "…got a letter from Victor Trevor…" John was stiff as he finished his meal, escaping to the den as soon as he could. He picked up the note on the way there but didn't look at it until he was allowed inside. It was still crumpled in his hands, and he swallowed and looked at Sherlock. "May I read it Sir?"

Sherlock was looking out the window in the den instead of working when John entered. “If you want. Basically, just says Victor has heard I've broken you and made you obedient. He is coming by at lunchtime to see firsthand himself.” He knew it would happen sooner or later, but he had preferred later really. “I need to address my idiot slave staff. Stay here and clean.” He left the den, pausing very briefly to put a hand on John's shoulder lightly before going back out to the dining area. “We are having a guest at lunch today. That means none of your ridiculous gossip or whispers. In fact, no speaking unless you are addressing a Master in the house respectfully. If I hear one word from any of you, I'll flog you outside and leave you there the rest of the day without food or water. Am I understood?” A bunch of 'yes Sirs' were muttered and he stared at them hard for a moment before he disappeared back into the den.

John read it as he left anyway, not even grunting at the comment of idiot slave staff. He knew that handwriting, and he knew that Victor wasn't coming over just to look at him. He would touch when he knew Sherlock wasn't looking or paying attention. He would speak to John when Sherlock couldn't hear. He would act, when Sherlock couldn't know, as though John still belonged to him. He had seen him do it before. He set the letter down on the desk and went to begin cleaning mechanically. He wouldn't be anything but Sherlock's best slave while Victor was here. He wouldn't fight it, argue or do anything to make Victor think he wasn't trained. When Sherlock came back John was organizing some of his notebooks, his eyes staring straight ahead and his face blank of any expression though his breathing was harsh and rattling. Although he sounded horrible, he didn't shake or give any other indication of nerves.

Sherlock closed the door and he eyed John with a frown. He moved up behind his slave and gently wrapped his arms around John. “Everything will be fine. I won't leave you alone with him. We will eat lunch. I'll offer him a glass of my best scotch, make ridiculous but polite small talk for a bit. Then I will tell him I am busy and I have a lot of work to do, and he will leave.” He gave John a small kiss on the back of the head before he released his slave. “I won't let him do anything to you.” Victor had always been a bit handsy, and admittedly one of the reasons he had a 'no touching' policy on his slaves to begin with. He sighed quietly to himself and sat down at his desk but he knew that once again he would be far too distracted to get anything done.

John relaxed into Sherlock's grip, turning around slightly to face him partially. He put his arms around Sherlock and held him tightly for a minute. "You know he'll find some way to get close Sir." It wasn't that he doubted his Master, it was that he knew Victor well. As tricky as Sherlock was, Victor knew that he couldn't really be accused of anything since slaves were not considered people. If Sherlock pressed charges he would have to pay a fee to Sherlock, but that was it. He sighed in Sherlock's grip and let himself be let go. He wanted to run into their room until Victor was gone. He did his best to calm down, but every now and then he would shake and drop something.

Sherlock glanced up to John, watching his slave work with a small frown. “John, sit down. Just rest until it is time for lunch. In fact, come over here. Sit in your Master's lap.” He gave his slave a slight smirk. “We are both too distracted to do any work anyway.” Maybe then they could both calm down if they just spent some time in each other's arms they would be able to relax. He found himself the most comfortable around John.

John almost let the books fall out of his hands when Sherlock ordered him to join him. He walked over as quickly as he could and sat down onto Sherlock's lap, putting his arms around the other. "I don't like Victor. He and Jim were horrible. They think less of their slaves than you, Sir. I've seen a few drop dead from working so hard and they still whipped them demanding more work before seeing if they were dead." John sighed and pressed a kiss to his Master quickly. "I really don't like them Sir. He's even worse to his bedwarmers, as I've told you." John curled up as best as he could.

Sherlock smiled and kissed John on the cheek. “I don't really like him either, but he is a business acquaintance I deal with from time to time. I'm not even sure why he thought of me when he sent me you. Maybe as a joke originally.” He smirked a little. “He will be quite jealous when he sees how well behaved you are for me. Take satisfaction in that while he is here to help you keep going.” He leaned into to kiss John again, this time on the lips.

John knew why he had been sent to Sherlock. Because he had grown to be too much for even Victor. The man would work them to the bone but he wouldn't use discipline beyond foremen and taking slaves to bed. They usually worked in fear, overlooking vital parts in their hurry to meet quota and get away from their abusers. John had managed to free himself the last time Victor had used him and nearly bitten the man's throat out, and Victor had told John that Sherlock would discipline him or kill him. It appeared that neither had happened so much as they come to an agreement. "Do you think he will ask if he can buy me from you Sir?" John asked, pulling back from the kiss some to speak.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at the question. “He might but you aren't for sale. Ever. You are mine now. I don't care how much he offers or anyone else.” He didn't need the money anyway. He had more than enough of that. He gave John another kiss on the lips, making this one last longer and his tongue pressing in past the lips eagerly. He just wanted to comfort them both and he thought maybe this was the best way to do it. He put a hand to the back of his slave's head and ran it through John's hair.

He was pleased with the answer. John was Sherlock's. He was the only one to listen to him. The only one to actually like him for his mind and not his body or any other ridiculous notion. He pressed back into the kiss this time, smiling. Once again, he kept his eyes open, watching his Master's face. He raised one of his own hands to hold onto his shoulder and the other to balance himself on the desk. John opened his mouth willingly, letting his tongue tangle with his Master's. This was a ridiculous battle for dominance, but it was fun and succeeded in distracting John from his worries about Victor.

Sherlock smirked a little but didn't mind that John fought for dominance. Not over a kiss anyway. He spent his whole life being in control and so he let his slave take it, curious what it was like to let someone be in charge other than himself for once. He only broke it when John pulled away first. “Hmmm, might let you do that more often.” He smiled and the hand in his slave's hair moved to stroke John's face lightly. “Would that be something you would be interested in?”

John enjoyed the small battle. It reminded him of not bowing down or bending over, and having the urge to fight even when he was being given things. Still, he had to breathe and pulled away reluctantly. Breathing was boring when it was between that and kissing Sherlock. He took a couple of deep breaths and looked down at his Master, raising his eyebrows and giving him a dirty smirk. He had begun to feel empowered from what they had done and he nodded. "Yes Sir. Could be fun Sir…make you work for it." John raised and lowered his eyebrows a few times teasingly.

Sherlock smirked back. “We'll see. Not now though. We can add it to your list.” The hand on the cheek went to John's hair again, fingers running through his slave's hair. He smiled as he looked at John, just staring at his slave a little while. He dropped his hand eventually, however. As relaxing as everything was, he should probably try and get some work done. He really did have a lot and he couldn't let John keep distracting him like this. It wouldn't be good for the business at all and it could fall apart if he didn't keep things running. “Right. We should both get back to work.”

"Definitely Sir." John made a note that when they returned to their room to write it down on his list. He enjoyed how much Sherlock let him do, though he did grumble a little when he was told to get back to work. "Wish I didn't have to Sir. I'd rather sit here with you all day." Even as he spoke, he got off after a moment and got back to the books. He was a lot calmer now, picking out some for later when they were in Sherlock's room again. He worked much better, but when the lunch bell rang John turned to Sherlock with a nervous smile.

Sherlock was calmed down as well, and managed to get some work done finally. He heard the bell, got up and moved over to John. He leaned down and gave his slave a quick kiss on the lips. “I have a way Victor won't be able to get to you at all but it will be very demeaning and you won't like it all.” He didn't even like the idea. He had never done anything like it to a slave before. “I could put a collar and leash on you. Treat you more like a pet than person while he is here. If you don't want to, that is fine and would understand if you don't want to.”

John was glad to have another kiss from Sherlock. The taller man always made him feel safe, since he'd been shot. He knew they'd have to have someone check out his stitches soon. His cheeks heated up angrily at the suggestion of putting him on a collar and leash, but then he stopped to think. Victor, when he'd sent John away, had been certain Sherlock would wind up killing John. He had thought he'd kill John or send him away. "Do you think…that if you did…he'd be upset?" He asked after a few moments quietness. Anything that would piss Victor off was acceptable to him.

Sherlock studied John for awhile, thinking for sure his slave would say no until he heard the question. “Probably. If you do it though, I'll be unpleasant with you.” Well, that was an understatement but he wanted John to know he wouldn't be the same Master he was with his slave like usual. “If you are sure you want to do this, we can but it likely be demeaning and humiliating for you.” He pressed a hand against John's face gently.

John listened to what Sherlock said, not looking away. He bit his lip, and stared up at him. "I think that…the best way to do this…would be for me to go on like a regular slave, Sir. To show that you…have trust in me not to run away, and perhaps I could appear happy about it? I'd rather not be collared, Sir, even by you." Especially by Sherlock. John was worried that if they did have him collared, the adoration he'd grown for Sherlock would flee at the first sign of upset. Not to mention he had decided to face up to his Master each time he got upset. "If he touches me I will let you know, Sir." John stood up a little on his toes to press a kiss to Sherlock's lips. "I only want you to touch me ever again."

Sherlock nodded. “Fine, we will do it your way. Come on. We don't want to be rude and keep the guest waiting.” He rolled his eyes a little before he turned around and walked out the door. He put on his best fake pleasant face when he saw Victor. He shook hands with the other man. “Welcome to my manor Victor. It would be my honor to have you sit with me for lunch.” He moved them to the dining room and sat down as he waited for his slaves to serve them.

John snorted at the not being rude bit and followed his Master. He separated from his Master before he stood before his past Master. When they were seated John was among the slaves serving them.

"Thank you very much Sherlock. It's always an honor to be allowed into your manor." Victor took a cup of the wine that was served and eyeing John. The slave was careful to not show any disgust on his face. Victor took a sip and watched him. "I see that you've managed to tame the wild Roger…or are you calling him something else now?" He looked back at Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded and began eating once the food was in front of them. “He just needed a little incentive to behave is all. I call him John. I didn't feel like the name Roger really fit him. He's my good boy now. Does anything I want him too, especially in the bedroom.” He just added that rub it in Victor's face since John really couldn't do anything about it other than behave for him. He spoke in an amiable voice though, smiling at his guest above his wine glass.

"John, hmmm? Isn't that the name on his certificate?" Victor began eating as well, noticing that John was one of the few slaves who stayed in the room to wait on them. He had his eyes down demurely and wasn't even trying to talk to another slave. "What type of incentive did you use, if you don't mind me asking. He was always feisty, and always put up a good fight in the bedroom for me. You've had him about a month now, yes? I had him for almost eight and could barely control him. A good friend of mine who excels in…training came in, but even he couldn't get the boy to calm down." Victor kept his calm, looking back at Sherlock after running his gaze over John and taking note of the bruises on his neck. "He does have a nice, right arse doesn't he? Better than any woman I've ever had. More fun as well."

Sherlock shrugged. “It is. I don't rename my slaves though. That's your thing, not mine.” He smirked a smugly. “How I break my slaves is a Holmes secret. How do you think we are one the best in the business? We have ways of making things work that no other Master can.” He wanted to throttle Victor for the observation but he kept his face neutral and shrugged again. “He is decent enough. I'm just trying him out now that I've tamed him. I don't like the fight like you do. I like them to lay there and take it like a good slave is supposed to.”

"True. I like to think that a new Master is a new life, and a new life needs a new name." Victor's smile grew a hair tighter at the reminder that he was not near the Holmes' in terms of fame and wealth. He was in the top twenty, but the Holmes' were number one. "I do wish we could have continued our relationship, Sherlock...I suppose that's the one thing you Holmes' aren't that good at, no offense meant." Victor took a couple more bites of food. "Still in the habit of not sharing darling?"

John kept his head down though he wanted to ask Sherlock what Victor was talking about. He could do it later, though.

The bastard would bring that up. “We are meant to be alone.” A small shrug. “It was just business Victor. You knew that when it started. We just had some added benefits at the time. All things come to end.” Another shrug. John was going to hate him now, he figured. His slave was close enough to hear. Sherlock kept his thoughts to himself and his face still neutral until he smirked at the question. “I still don't share. My slaves are mine and no one else's.”

"I've actually been seeing someone. A nice woman, Louise. So, perhaps you are meant to be alone, but I certainly am not." He smiled a bit darkly at Sherlock. Since their bad…'breakup' years ago, he'd been a bit bitter. He would make some excuse to stay longer. Already he knew that one of the slaves he'd brought with him would have loosened the shoe on the horse he'd ridden in on. He could stay longer and see just how well-trained John really was. "That's too bad. I wanted to see how far…John had come along in his training with you." He sighed as though deeply unhappy. The slave in mention was just as calm as the others, and Victor grit his teeth slightly in annoyance.

"Afraid you won't be seeing much of him. He is to clean my room actually. We can have some fine scotch in my den though, if you want to stay after lunch." Sherlock snapped his fingers for his slave to come. "John, you will eat after my room is clean. You aren't to leave until it is the way I like it. You should know by now what way that is." It was his way of having John disappear and he could only hope his slave would understand and stay there until Victor was gone.

Victor watched the slave step forward to his Master at the snap of his fingers.

The blond walked over, keeping his head down, and nodded. "Yes Sir." He left and walk down the hall.

Victor followed him with his eyes openly, knowing that there was no way he could get in trouble for simply watching. When John was gone, Victor looked back at Sherlock. "Scotch sounds delicious. I haven't had any of the good stuff for a while. And you always have the best." He gave Sherlock his best unassuming smile. Some way or another he would find a way to get John alone…and maybe, if he was lucky, he could get Sherlock drunk and loose about how he'd managed to get the problematic slave to behave. "Not interested in selling him, I assume." The man stated, eyeing the other slaves.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes a little when Victor turned his back on him to look at John. It turned to a smile when his guest turned back around though. He nodded a bit. “No, he isn't for sale. He is my best slave.” He saw Victor looking over his other slaves and he gave them all a warning glance to keep holding their tongues and then led them over to the den. He went to the table with liquor. He poured them each a glass, no ice. It would water down the perfect taste of the scotch otherwise. He offered a glass to Victor, sipping on his own as he took a seat.

Although the slaves were not fond of John, they were even less so of Victor. He always harassed them every time he came over and gave them little relief. When their Master looked at them, they gave discrete nods. Only two followed them to the den in order to be around in case their Master needed them, or they needed to fetch John.

Victor followed Sherlock easily, looking around and seeing what had changed in his manor since the last time he'd been in. It was disappointing to know John was not for sale, but that didn't matter. He'd find a way to get to the slave once more. He took the scotch and sipped it, trying to go sparingly. "Truly some of the best you've had, my dear man." He gave a charming smile. 

“I'm afraid I had to go away on business for a bit and just got back a few days ago. My brother left me a pile of paperwork.” Sherlock gestured to his desk, with a frown. “So, I will be unable to entertain you for long. Just this one drink and then I will show you out. If you had given me more notice I would be much better host. My apologies Victor.” He gave his guest his best apologetic smile. It wasn't even a lie, that was the brilliant thing. So, everything he had said was true and sincere and he didn't have to worry about being caught in any sort of deceit.

"I see. What sort of business? I heard that a Lord Watson some towns over was killed. Rumors were spread about you being there. Any of that sort of business?" Victor raised his eyebrows with a conspiratorial smirk. "I do believe that our dear John's last name is Watson…did he by chance accompany you?" He had not missed the bruises on Sherlock's wrist and tender way he stood. Something had happened during his 'business trip'. He waved one of the slaves away to go check on his horse though he knew it would not be ready to leave. They left with a barest second's hesitance.

Sherlock answered without hesitation and with ease. “Stuff for my brother actually. I met his personal slave there, for the family business. To show his gratitude, the bastard left me all this work.” He shook his head, the frown returning as he gave a small sigh. “Yes, I took John. How else was I supposed to keep training a new slave properly? Especially as one as unruly as he was at first, but it didn't take long to break him of that. I just needed to show him who was in charge and what his place was in life. I was actually already questioned by a police officer about that murder, but we were both already out of town at the time they said the killing took place.” He gave a shrug at that and continued to sip on his scotch slowly.

"Ah, yes. The family business." Victor sighed, sipping his scotch again. "Mycroft always has been a bit of a vindictive bastard, hasn't he?" The man smiled at Sherlock, tipping his head slightly. "I don't know, darling, leave him chained up in a kennel with food and water once a day? That normally works for me, although he was a special case. I suppose it was Donovan, wasn't it? That woman always suspects you're the base of everything horrible that goes on." Victor knew it wasn't, but it was still a bit humorous to him that she was so intent on getting Sherlock convicted.

The slave returned a few minutes later, bowing as he walked in and going straight over to his master. "Master, it appears that Lord Trevor's horse has thrown a shoe. The farrier will not be out for a couple more days." He informed Sherlock, looking at the ground instead of his Master. Victor hid his small smirk behind another sip of scotch, raising his eyebrows in question when the slave stood slightly, waiting for his next orders. 

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at the news but frankly wasn't surprised. No doubt planned. “What a horrible inconvenience for you Victor. You may use one of my horses. Take Boaz, he is a good stable beast. Then when your horse is ready, I'll have a slave ride it to your manor with it and then bring mine back to me. It’s the least I can do for you considering your generous gift you gave me with John.” There was no way in hell he was going to let Victor stay at his manor for a few days. If he wasn't just using the man for business, he wouldn't welcome Victor here ever again. Mycroft would kill him, if he did that though.

"I have seen you on him and I admit that the prospect of riding him unnerves me. He is so much larger than the one I ride often…do you have no guest rooms I can beg to use for the next few days until your farrier shows? If you wish I will pay you for allowing me to board here." He asked, giving his best impression of innocence. He had seen Boaz often enough, with Sherlock or another on his back and he had always seemed a bit testy. No worse than any of his, and he wasn't really that nervous to ride, he just did not wish to leave quite yet. Victor would find some way to stay a few nights, if not today then at a later date.

Damn. Fine. Sherlock would just send John away to his brothers until Victor left. “No, we are friends Victor. I wouldn't dream of making you pay to stay here. You know you are welcome in my home anytime. Stay as long as you need to.” He looked down at his papers, as if in thought. “Damn. I need to send a message to my brother. He left me with a right mess while I was away.” He sighed and wrote a quick note, it was all in code of course. He put it in an envelope and sealed it with wax and the family crest from his ring. He looked up at one of his slaves. “Fetch John. I will have him deliver this note to Mycroft.” It basically told his brother to just keep John until he sent for him again.

The slave nodded and turned to hurry out of the room. Victor clenched his teeth again in annoyance. "Thank you, Sherlock. You are too kind to me." Blast it. The one slave he had desired was leaving the household. "I see you got a new horse in your stable." He took a longer drink of his liquor. "He's got quite a nasty injury on his chest. Looks like he was shot. Never thought you'd be the type to keep a horse like that." It was half a question and half a statement.

“Of course, Victor. It is the least I can do for an old friend like you.” Sherlock couldn't help the smirk that crossed his lips as he watched his guest’s reaction. He had won this time around at least. He glanced out the window and shrugged. “It isn't mine. I'm just holding onto it for friend.” That was actually mostly the truth. He waited for John to come in the den now so he could pass the note over. He knew his slave would be grateful for sending him away. He didn't want to send John away but like hell he was going to keep his slave under the same roof as Victor.

"You have another friend? Joyous day, Sherlock, we should drink to you having a friend, and one that you care for enough to keep a beast in your stable for them." Victor lifted his tumbler and taking notice of the smirk on the other man's face. He drank long, and then requested another round. John came into the den a few minutes later to silence. He stood by the door until he was beckoned over by Sherlock. Victor watched him with eyes like a falcon, searching for the slightest sign that he might deny what Sherlock was asking. If he did, he would suggest that Sherlock keep him for some training. But no, the slave kept his head down and his tone respectful when he greeted Sherlock.

Sherlock shrugged but he smirked a little once more. “I know, it’s hard to believe that someone like me could manage to keep someone around.” He poured Victor another drink, finished his own but didn't give himself anything more. He really did have work to do. He snapped his fingers at John once more when his slave arrived. “John, I need you take this to my brother's manor. Mrs. Hudson will tell you how to get there. Take Borak. Those are your orders. That is all. You are dismissed.” He handed the envelope over to his slave and turned his attention to Victor. “Come, I will show you where you will be staying until your horse is ready.”

John didn't like the finger snapping but he did not react. His gut clenched a little at being sent away from his Master--nothing good had come of such a thing yet--but he nodded. "Yes Sir." He turned and walked out of the room as quickly as he could. At least he would be on Borak. He liked to think the big gold horse liked him.

"Thank you, my good friend." Victor said graciously as he looked at John leave. "Has something happened to his shoulder? He looks to be favoring it a little." 

Sherlock knew the finger snapping was a bit much but he only did it to prove to Victor just how well-trained John really was. “Of course.” He shrugged a little at the question. “I shot him. Part of his training and keeping him in line. He tried to run while we were away, as you can see it didn't work out for him.” If he was going to lie about it, might as well be the same one so it lined up with everything else everyone else knew too.

Victor blinked at the frank admittance. "You shot him? Impressive. I suppose he won't try to leave you ever again." He had never shot John, perhaps he should have. He could see the slave mounting up the large horse a few minutes later and leave at a lope. He turned around to Sherlock again. "He really is delightful in bed, though. I've never had a slave like him. Sometimes I think I should not have given him away, though he did try to bite my throat out the last time I had fucked him and I'm not much of a fan of gags." Victor shrugged. "Has he tried to kill you yet?"

Sherlock nodded. “Yes, it needed done. It was only the shoulder. He is still useful which is what is important to me.” He wanted to punch Victor in the mouth for the way he kept talking about John. He kept himself under control and face neutral. “No. He never tried to attack me since having him. He didn't put up much of a fight with me. Just the first day, he was mouthy with me so I flogged him and left outside with no food and water for three days. It is a good way to break them in on their first day but a lot more goes into the training besides that.”

"Ah! Flogging and starving! That makes sense." Not really. He had done both, though not at the same time and perhaps that was the problem. He was curious as to what else Sherlock had done, but it was best not to outstay his welcome before he was gone. He could easily read the tension in Sherlock's body and thought it best to irritate him further at a later time. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "You know, it has been a while since I had a good fight and fuck…do you want to play the game tonight?" He asked with a smirk. Typical rules-whoever lost had to bottom.

Sherlock smiled a little but it disappeared at the question quickly. He really didn't want to do anything with Victor. He wasn't interested at all. He didn’t even think he would be able to perform, not that Victor would really care as long as his guest got what he wanted out of the deal. “I'm sorry. I don't have time. I really do have a lot of work to do. You know how I get when I am busy.” He gave a small, helpless shrug but didn't offer an alternative for Victor either. He wasn't going to let his guest touch any of his slaves.

Victor gave a heavy sigh but nodded. "The offer always stands for you, old friend. Which room shall I be staying in again? And have you anything for me to do? You know how I dislike remaining motionless while I could be working. Perhaps I should have brought some with me. If I had known Cream would throw a shoe I would have!" Victor laughed, a bit forced. He had known, but he had thought that John would be here to play with. Now that he wasn't, Victor knew that he wouldn't be able to touch any of the slaves save the one he'd brought and the man was so very dull.

Sherlock nodded. “I have a lot of paper work. Keeping the books and all that. You could help with some I suppose. Not all of it of course, my brother likes to keep a lot in the family. As you well know by now no doubt. Although, I'd be a horrid host if I had you be my book keeper for the day though. Perhaps you could entertain yourself with your slave just for the day and then I will be a proper host to you the rest of the time and just put off some of the work. It will annoy Mycroft but he deserves it after everything he left me with.”

"Ah, anything to help my old friend, dear Sherlock. If bookkeeping is what you need help with, then it is bookkeeping I shall help you with. Perhaps tomorrow I will entertain myself with my slave, but today I will help you." He wasn’t going to pass up a chance to look through the Holmes books. He looked at the desk and the mess around it and then noticed a small pile on the floor. "What are those, if you don't mind me asking my dear?" He asked, motioning towards them. They were the books John had been intending to go through that night, and the slave in the room glanced up carefully at his Master, questioning Sherlock with the tilt of his brow and head if he wanted him to clean them up before Victor could get too close.

The important things were coded, a cipher his brother had come up with a few years ago for them. So, Sherlock wasn't really worried about Victor going through the other things. It didn’t' have anything worth knowing or wasn't already public knowledge. “Those are nothing. Just some old notes from an experiment I did.” He motioned to his slave with his hand to have the notes picked up. “Put those away. They don't belong on the floor.” John must have left them there on accident or on purpose but his slave hadn't known he would be sent away for a few days either. Hell, he hadn't known until a little bit ago either. It had needed to be done though.

The man moved quickly, scooping up the pile of notebooks and setting them to where they looked like they should go. He got done quickly and stepped back, away from the pair.

Victor looked at Sherlock with a smile. "Very nice, Sherlock. You truly do have the best slaves around. All of them are so eager to obey you." If only he knew the secret...  
  
John was trying to keep his mind on what Mrs. Hudson had told him but he was thinking about his Master. Victor was in the house with him. The other slaves, yes, but no John. And they had been in a relationship previously. Ended not very well? He wasn't sure. Mycroft lived a couple towns over, though not too far from his brother that he couldn't leave and return home within a day. John would be there soon enough. And then he could return to Sherlock.

For all their gossip and other annoyances, Sherlock did have some rather good slaves under his command. “Yes, well a lot were under my father's command before mine. I just maintain the same discipline he did.”  He sifted through a stack of papers before he found some that Victor would actually be able to read. “Here, I do appreciate you helping me. Perhaps I will be able to make time for you tonight after dinner.” He gave a small smirk. He didn't really want to but it was better to keep his guest distracted during the stay.

"I see. It is an excellent discipline you maintain. They obviously care about you some." Victor shrugged at that, and walked over to grab the files. He grinned at Sherlock, almost like a shark would, and nodded. "It sounds delightful my dear. I'm hoping you've gotten better at fighting. I do hate easy wins." Which was why he had liked John. The short, stout blond had always been a challenge. He sat down and got to work, tapping his feet on the floor as he did. There was nothing interesting in the books, but he kept it all close to his memory anyway.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at that and shrugged as well. He knew Mrs. Hudson did and even John now maybe but he wasn't really sure about his other slaves liking him, let alone caring about him. “Perhaps you are right. I have known some of them since I was very young.” He began working again finally. God, it was so boring and tedious. He hated it, it was probably why it took him so long to do it most of the time. He actually appreciated the help from Victor, even though his guest looked just as bored doing it as he was.

When the dinner bell rang hours later, Victor had been through all the books Sherlock had given him to do. He stretched out, showing off a little because he was certain he'd be having Sherlock underneath him tonight. "Long day of work, hm? Must get pretty lonely in here, doing all this yourself." Victor stood and then walked over to Sherlock and put his hands on his shoulders. "We might to do this again, darling, and spend more time together." He grinned at Sherlock and walked over to the door.

Sherlock worked until the bell rang. He gave a bored yawn and stood, stretching as well. He had gotten quite a bit of work done at least. "Not really. I like my solitude." And he did really. He did miss John's presence though. "It would be my honor to work with you again Victor." He led them out of the den and to the dining hall. He sat down and waited for his slaves to serve them. He didn't want his guest here any longer than needed really but he had to be a good host. Well, he didn't have to but it was certainly expected.

Victor followed Sherlock as a good guest would. He eyed the slaves around him, seeing who was the most attractive and the meekest. He had to take stock of who was most likely to keep quiet and who would fight if Sherlock backed out. The food was served and the meal quiet, with Mrs. Hudson bringing out Sherlock's and giving Victor a barely concealed glare. She stayed in the kitchen the rest of the time.  
  
John arrived at Mycroft's as it began to grow dark. He was welcomed into the house and Borak taken to the stables to be rinsed off and brushed down. He waited in the hallway with the note from Sherlock in his hands, nervously waiting for the elder Holmes. He didn't think Mycroft liked him too much, but Sherlock would not have sent him here if Mycroft was not safe. When he was led to the elder Holmes's study, he set the note down before the man and stepped back to await further orders. Hopefully to go back to Sherlock soon.

Sherlock had noticed the glare. He knew Mrs. Hudson well enough to know to do so. He managed not to smirk despite being amused. He noticed Victor looking over his slaves. He could let his guest have at one of his slaves, but he figured they hated him enough already that would just add to it. He wasn't sure he would be able to enjoy anything with Victor. Not anymore. He barely even liked the man. He had been stupid and vulnerable at the time. His parents had just died and he was so angry. Victor had been a good friend, for awhile and then things got shot to shit. He finally saw the slave owner for what he was but Victor was a good asset in the business, so he had managed to remain cordial. He would just suffer through whatever his guest wanted, he figured.

Mycroft was not expecting John at all. What the hell could be so important his younger brother would send his little pet here? He narrowed his eyes as he read the note. Sherlock had sent his slave away from Victor and wanted John to stay here a couple days? Damn it. He did not like or trust Victor. He hadn't told Sherlock about the recent discoveries about their parent’s deaths. He didn't have hard evidence to know for sure, but so far, all signs pointed Victor and perhaps even his friend Jim. His brother was so stupid! He crumpled the paper and then lit it on a candle, letting it burn to ash. He finally looked up at John. “You are staying here until my brother sends for you again. I don't have any ownership over you, but you are still a slave and while you stay here you will earn your keep. See Gregory for your accommodations and any work to be assigned to you.” He eyed his brother's slave. “I don't know why he thinks you are worth all this effort. He has gone to great lengths to keep you safe while Victor stays at the manor. You'd best be grateful to him when you return home. If you ever betray him like you did your father, you will have me to deal with. Now get the hell out of my sight, I have important work to do.”

Victor ate his food quietly, keeping his gaze calmly on Sherlock. There were a number of slaves he was interested in, but none so much as Sherlock. He had gone too far with him too fast, but Victor still hoped that he could bring the other man back around to his side. Sherlock had looked good underneath him when they were together, and Victor had found a good replacement in John. If the man hadn't tried to kill him, Victor would still have him. Perhaps if he were to kill John he could bring Sherlock back to him…John and Mrs. Hudson, for Sherlock seemed to like them the most. He'd have to ask Jim his opinion, of course, because Jim had liked John as well. "The anniversary of your parents' death is coming up." He said it quietly, like an apologetic friend. "Are you going to burn candles again? I much prefer it to the cocaine." That was a lie, but he said it as honestly as he could. When Sherlock was on cocaine, Victor could do almost anything he wanted with him and to him.  
  
John watched the elder Holmes with a straight face, glad that they were alone in the room. He was a bit pale with fear knowing that he wouldn't go back to his Master, but he tried to squash the feeling. The threat Mycroft gave him made him want to roll his eyes, and he couldn't stop their upward motion. "I see, Sir. Thank you." He meant to stop and not speak again, but he couldn't let the last sentences Mycroft had said be what he remembered during his stay. "Please excuse my words, Sir, but I am very grateful to him. He's a great man, and at times he's even a good one. With him I have no doubt that I am the safest I can be, and I would die for him before I let any harm come to him if I could. He has nothing to fear from me, and so you shouldn't worry about that. If I ever betray him I will take my own life out of shame before you can find me." John spoke a bit prouder than he should have, and then left. He quickly found the other slave and received his chores until dinner. The slaves here were a bit more content, but John could tell that they were pretty much mindless. Even more so than the ones at Sherlock's, and he did his best to keep his own mind active while he worked.

Sherlock ate quietly as well and he couldn't help but visibly stiffen at the mention of his parent’s death. “Yes, it is. I don't know. Maybe. I've been busy lately. And I don't do cocaine anymore. I'm clean now.” Mycroft had made him or he would have lost everything. He wasn't sure why he let Victor control him so much. Why he ended up being submissive but he couldn't seem to help it. He supposed it was the same reason he didn't mind John having control. He was just tired of having it, since he had it in all other aspects of his life that he was willing to relinquish it.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes a little at John's last words but didn't say anything. If his brother's slave continued to speak like that he would take liberties to teach John a lesson or two. It wasn't his slave but this was his house with his rules and John was under his rule right now, not Sherlock's.

"Ah, I see. Good for you. That stuff is no good for you." Victor passed the rest of the dinner quietly, sighing happily at the food. "I wish I could have your kitchen slave, darling, the food here is so much better than at my home." Their plates were cleared away and desert brought out, which Victor readily dug into despite his quite-full stomach. They could always sit around and chat a while before he got to fuck the other home owner.  
  
John did all his work silently, conversing with Greg at odd times. The other man was quite intelligent, and much like Mycroft's John it seemed. He had a few liberties like John did, and slept in Mycroft's room though in a separate bed unless Mycroft asked. John appreciated the friendliness of the other though he wished he was with Sherlock.

Sherlock smirked. “Got lucky with the chef. She fell into debt, I paid it off and now she owes me until it is all paid off which won't be for a several years still.” He shrugged a little and ate the desert in front of him. “Would you like more scotch?” Perhaps if he got drunk enough he would loosen up enough to let Victor use him. He had never won a fight against his guest. Simply put, Victor was just better at it. Although he had gotten better since being on the road with John.

Mycroft kept tabs on John through Gregory to make sure his brother's slave was working and being well behaved. He stayed in his study working until it was time for bed. “Gregory, it is time for bed.” He went up to his room, knowing his slave would follow him.

"You get all the luck my dear friend. Some scotch would be wonderful, would you care to drink with me though?" Victor swallowed his bite and licked his teeth clean before smiling at the man before him. "I hope you don't mind my fascination with him, but I am rather surprised at how much John has changed. He actually seems…happy. Is that because of your prowess in bed?" Victor chuckled. "I always thought I could satisfy him, but I guess finding my own wasn't the same as him getting some."  
  
Greg bid goodnight to John and showed him the direction of where he would sleep before following his Master closely. John watched them leave, fisting his hand for a moment and wishing he was at home so he could do the same, before turning and walking to where the slaves slept. Each bed was made, and each bed was filled. Nobody offered to share, so John simply walked to the corner and pulled an extra blanket and pillow from the linen closet nearby to curl up under. He stared into the darkness, trying to imagine being with Sherlock, but entirely unable to fall sleep.

Sherlock smirked a bit. “Yes, I got enough work done with your help I'll be able to indulge a little even.” A small pause. “You know, I do realize you like it when I'm a bit...incapacitated.” He wasn't an idiot, even if Victor thought he was. He was still smarter, cleverer than the other man. The smirk got bigger as he stood, an eyebrow cocked as he began walking over to the den. He got two clean glasses and poured them each one. He took a long drink, downing almost half of it in one swallow before handing Victor his glass.

Victor gave a shrug. "I apologize if my tastes offend you." He really didn't but it sounded good. He followed Sherlock to the den and the liquor. "Thank you very much my friend." He took a more sedate sip of his. His desert was almost done, but he wouldn't be eating any more of it. Victor was curious as to what the smirk was for, and he raised his eyebrows but raised his own in a small toast before drinking more of it.

“It doesn't. If it did, I wouldn't agree to drinking with you.” Sherlock smiled a little as he finished off the rest of his glass. Fine scotch like this should be sipped and appreciated but he just wanted to get drunk and get the night over with at this rate. He poured himself another shot and sank down into one of the more comfortable chairs in the room. He did take his time with the second glass though. After a moment, he glanced to Victor. “Want to take this to my bedroom?”

"I'm glad to hear it." Victor watched with raised eyebrows as Sherlock downed his tumbler. He had never seen the other drink so much, so fast. And while he enjoyed Sherlock incapacitated, all out limp was not fun. When he was high he had much more movement, but when he was drunk…there was nothing. "Sure." Victor agreed after a moment's though, picking up his glass while he stood. He followed Sherlock to the room and was interested to see some clothes laying around. Sherlock's as well as somebody else's. "Ah, so more than just a 'friend'?" he questioned, feeling a bit angered. Nobody else should be touching Sherlock, not even his slaves though he could hardly stop that.

Sherlock shrugged but couldn't help the smirk at the bitter tone of Victor's voice. “A man's got needs, even someone like me. What's the matter Victor, are you jealous? I thought we were past that. You even found someone else you said.” He wasn't near drunk enough as he wanted to be but there was no point in backing out now. He did finish off his second glass though and set on his dresser. He turned to face Victor and he wandered if he could actually win a fight. And see how his guest liked being used like some kind of whore. Probably not, while he wasn't near drunk his motor functions would be suffering a bit from the fast consumption of strong liquor.

Victor grunted and downed his alcohol, pouring himself another shot. "Of course not, luv. Louise is nice and all, but sometimes I need a good fight. You work when I need that. John did, but he's not here right now." He looked around the room and took note of a piece of paper on the nightstand. "What's that?" He asked, drinking the shot quickly in order to match Sherlock's state. He took a couple steps over towards it, and then looked at the bed. The sheets hadn't been changed and he could see the stains where another man had been in. "Been fucking John in here? God, I pity you. That you can't feel him resisting, trying so hard not to feel it and push you off. It's wonderful.”

Sherlock smiled darkly. “I'll be sure to give you a good fight tonight then.” While Victor was distracted he snatched the piece of paper and shoved it into a drawer. Damn it though. Why hadn't John changed the sheets when he'd sent his slave to clean the room earlier? Just calm down. Victor was just trying to get under his skin. “Unlike you, I actually like a willing participant. I have plenty of slaves who like me using them. They even get off, I'm so good. It isn't even a requirement I have for them. Long as I get what I want, doesn't really matter to me if they are pleased or not but rest assured they are. John is just my latest to the collection.” That wasn't entirely true. He wasn't even interested in using any of his other slaves more.

"Seems like he's not that good if he can't even clean your room up." Victor snarled, setting his nearly empty cup down. "And how good is he? Does he really enjoy it or does he just tell you that?" He looked over the bed, noticing that a couple of the corners were turned up as though they had been preparing to be taken off. So, the slave wasn't completely useless then. "Slaves are supposed to be used, not pleasured! They're not people, or are you turning into one of those bleeding hearts?" Victor leaned forward, smiling with his teeth bared.

“Well, I did interrupt him in the middle of cleaning my room. Obviously, he just didn't get to it.” Sherlock smirked. “I can get him to suck me off without worrying about him biting me. He is _very_ good. Better in bed than you I think, now that I have time to think of it.” Victor had been baiting him all night, and he was tired of it and decided to push back. He rolled his eyes at the question and wasn't the least intimidated by the smile. “Please. I've always been that way with them for pleasure. It is the one thing I don't make a slave do, if they don't want to. I have lines I won't cross. You don't, I know that. That is fine. They are your slaves to do as you wish.”

Victor growled, tired of this farce. As though Sherlock honesty cared about his slaves, as though John really would do that. No slaves did that. He'd had to fuck John's face so hard he couldn't get up the energy to try and bite him. "I think you're lying, Holmes." He couldn't help it, it was the alcohol. Or so he would say if asked later. "No slave would do that. Unless they're trained for it they won't do anything like that for anybody. Certainly not a bitch like John." Victor took the first swing, aiming for Sherlock's face unapologeticly.

There it was. The anger he knew Victor had and all he could do was smile. “Next time John is here when you are, I'll have him give a demonstration for you. On me, not you of course.” Sherlock wasn't going to let emotion get in the way. He'd lose the fight for sure that way. He side stepped the first swing easily, though he felt his own clench in fists about what he said about John. Instead of going for a swing, he just went to tackle his guest to the ground instead.

"Why, afraid he'd enjoy sucking me off more than you?" Victor taunted, falling with Sherlock. "Don't be such a pansy, let me take him for a romp, he'll come back better than ever, if he wants to." He slammed his fist into Sherlock's side, snarling. That bloody slave had given this arsehole who should belong to Victor more than he'd given to him. He had to be worse, he had to get Sherlock upset. If he didn't, he'd be getting fucked that night. "So, he hasn't choked for you yet then? You haven't just shoved into him and heard him beg for it?" Beg for it to stop, or else risk death, but that didn't matter. Sherlock didn't know that.

That actually made Sherlock laugh but ended up coughing a little as the fist hit his side. He knew exactly what John thought of Victor and that motivated him to stay on top and not roll to the side in pain. “You will never touch John. He is mine now. You had your chance and you gave him away because you couldn't handle him. You are just jealous he does everything for me. Anything I want him to.” Which was true, though he had never forced John to do something he didn’t' want. So, there was that.

Victor scoffed, trying to push Sherlock off of him. "Jealous of you? I could have made him do anything I wanted to! You're turning into one of those bloody arseholes who think their slaves are _people_ , and treat them like it. Slaves are slaves, I used him exactly how he should be. I should have put him down like a bad dog when he tried to kill me, and you should before he turns on you!" Oh yes, he was definitely speaking to Jim about the John problem when he returned. He punched Sherlock in the stomach again, using his legs now as well.

“Who are you trying to convince? Me? Or yourself? I can't afford to look at slaves like people you idiot. I buy, breed and sell them every day. Thinking of them as people would get in the way of my job and ruin my business. Profits for the Holmes manor have gone up ten percent since Mycroft and I took over so we must be doing something right. Last time I checked you slipped from rank sixteen to eighteen. Your down what, two and half percent this year?” Sherlock smirked but it faded from the next punch and left him gasping for breath. No. He couldn't just give in and let Victor win. Not this time around. But damn, the man underneath him was strong. He just thought of John and how Victor used him. It gave him strength he didn't realize he had and he pressed his knee into stomach near the kidneys with vicious persistence.

"Is it even you in the business or is it Mycroft? What do you even do besides stay in your manor and order your slaves around? Keep the books? That's not working, that's reading. You don't even do anything but work on the slaves, and it's no wonder they hate you. It's a wonder you trust John like you do, I bet he hates you most of all!" Victor gasped at the knee in his kidney, looking up into Sherlock's eyes. He moved his hands from the other man's stomach to his neck, working his hands around it to squeeze. "I'm going to rise, if those damn slaves would actually work instead of faffing off or running." He snarled and then spit on Sherlock. "I'm going to be number one, one day, and you're going to wish you had stayed with me, and I won't take you back." Not until he was on his knees and _begging_. His grip around Sherlock's neck began to falter, the pressure on his kidneys almost crippling.

"It is _our_ business. He takes care of all the boring, important stuff. I take care of the slaves and get them ready for other Masters. Someone has to keep the books, might as well be me. And just earlier today you said they obviously cared for me. It can't be both.” Sherlock decided to ignore the bit about John. It was better that way but it did keep motivating to keep him going, even if he blacked out from the hands around his neck. He smirked even though he was coughing and trying to breathe, but the grip was getting weaker he could tell but his own knee was as well. “Someone like you will never be number one, you can't even hack it in the top ten. Let alone the top five. I don't want you to take me back. You are a disgusting human being and consider this the last night you are allowed here.” Christ. Mycroft was going to kill him for that. They didn't need a prat like Victor not when his business was failing.

Victor struggled to breathe, the pain in his kidneys affecting his breathing. "Flattery…is required…at times…" He snarled, but he was done. He couldn't breathe through the pain, and he dropped his arms. "I yield," he gasped through his rough breathing. "I see you're kicking me out, then. I'll take my leave in the morning, then." The man was breathing harshly. "This may be my last night here, but this won't be the last you see of me." Jim would make sure of that.

He had won? Sherlock had never bested Victor before. He smirked and thought about just ending the man on the floor there and now. He didn't though and got off. He rolled his eyes. “Someone like you isn't a threat to me Victor. You are an ant that needs crushed.” There was no way he would be able to fuck Victor tonight. He was so angry and wanted to throttle his guest. He got up and opened the door to his room. “Mrs. Hudson!” He called down to his oldest slave. “Show Victor here to his room.” He gave her a small smirk and hopped she would understand to take the guest to the special bedroom in the house that locked on the outside and not the inside so Victor wouldn't be able to run amok in his manor in the middle of the night. He hadn't trusted Victor in a long time and after the words exchanged tonight, he wouldn't ever be able to again.

Victor coughed as he stood up, almost bent entirely in half what with the pain in his stomach. It was ridiculous how easily Sherlock had bested him. He thought about charging the man from behind, but no, not here. Not in his house where he had slaves to come help him. He walked out of the room, glaring balefully at Sherlock. While the older slave made her way up he sneered at Sherlock. "I bet you haven't actually fucked John yet. You have no idea how he feels. How he squeezes around a cock so beautifully. How he whines and begs to get away. You'll never be able to actually fuck him, you know. He won't let you." He smirked at Sherlock and then turned to leave the room. "He doesn't trust you. He doesn't trust anyone. You're ridiculous if you think you can actually bring him to pleasure." Victor let Mrs. Hudson lead him, with a couple other saves to make sure she was alright. He heard the door lock and went to sit on the bed, then laid down. He would sleep, and in the morning, he would fix his horse's shoe and return home.

Sherlock wasn't going to let Victor get in his head. He and John trusted each other and he wasn't going to let that bastard get between them. He watched down the hall to make sure Victor didn't do anything stupid on the way to his room. Good. His guest was locked in for the night. He sighed and closed his door to his bedroom. Was he even going to be able to get sleep? Probably not. Instead of staying in his room, he left and went down to do some more work by candle light. He stayed up all night, working as the sunlight filtered through the window.


	14. Chapter 14

Mrs. Hudson came to get him in the morning. She was still in her nightgown, but she walked in with a yawn and put her hand on his shoulder. "Morning, luv. You want breakfast? I can bring you some. Dimmock got Victor's horse's shoe fixed last night. You should have seen the smile on his face when I told him Victor would be leaving if he could reshoe the beast. Now why don't you write a letter and I can send somebody on their way to get your man back?" Mrs. Hudson smiled although he wasn't looking at her, and pressed a kiss to the back of his head. "You ought to get some rest. After he's gone of course."

Sherlock wanted to fetch John himself but after staying awake all night he wouldn't be able ride all the way to his brother's. “Victor won't be coming back here again.” He gave Mrs. Hudson a small, tired smile. He was glad his guest was leaving today. “Breakfast would be lovely. You may let Victor out now. I suppose we can be bothered to let him eat as well before he leaves, but he won't be coming back. He is no longer welcome in my household. God, I'm going to get an earful from Mycroft about this I am sure.” He couldn't care about that though. He couldn't have Victor back here anymore. His brother would just have to understand. 

"Good. Lord knows that if he did, the slaves would be all over him should you give the orders luv. They may not like John, but Victor is much worse and they will protect their own despite their own feelings. As soon as he's gone you will go and rest before John gets back. And that’s an order as your nanny dear, which I still am no matter how old you are." She gave him another kiss and then left. Mrs. Hudson unlocked the door to Victor's chambers and, none too gently, rang the bell to wake him up for breakfast. She led him to the dining room and brought his breakfast, three slaves staying in to watch him.

Sherlock smiled a little. It was nice to know his slaves were there for him. He didn't realize he was cared for that much or maybe they just hated Victor that much and it had nothing to do with him. “Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I will sleep after he is gone, I promise.” He yawned and wrote another letter to Mycroft, this one much longer. He took his time, eating the food that had been brought to him once it was there. He wasn't going to take a meal with Victor if he didn't have to.

Once Victor had eaten, Mrs. Hudson showed him to where his horse waited. He got on, and the horse looked rather unsettled. He turned back to the slaves with a glare. "You haven't seen the last of me." Each and every one looked up and into his face, and snorted as one person. With a growl, Victor rode off quickly and in a huff. Mrs. Hudson returned inside once he was out of sight. "He's gone dear. Do you want me to send Dimmock out to get John?"

Sherlock finished his letter about the time Mrs. Hudson came back and was sealing the envelope when she walked in. “Yes, please. Have him deliver this to Mycroft. And Mrs. Hudson thank you. Inform the slaves they have a day off for their loyalty. It is appreciated, let them know that.” He got up but merely dropped off at the couch in the den. He didn't have the energy to go all the way upstairs to his room. He fell asleep almost immediately, stretched out and arms crossed over his chest.

"Of course, my little lock. You take a nice long sleep now." She pressed another fond kiss to his head as he leaned over to sleep. Then she left and closed the door to the study. The majority of the booking was done now, she was glad to see. The first people she told were the house slaves, knowing they'd pass it on the quickest. Then she went to the stables to give Dimmock the note. Immediately he saddled up another one of the horses and, letter in the bag by his side held tight, went galloping out of the trail. It took him a few hours to get to Mycroft's manor, but when he did he pulled up sharp outside and gave the note to one of the nearby slaves to give to Mycroft. John wasn't in sight, and Dimmock decided he'd wait for John to find him.

Mycroft looked up when a slave came to deliver a letter. The seal on the envelope meant it was from his brother. He read it and sat there staring for awhile. His little brother really was an idiot sometimes. Victor would be out for blood...again. He needed to put a stop to this. Clean up Sherlock's messes like usual. He sighed and burned the note like the last one. He wouldn't be able to tell his brother his suspicions now. “Gregory. Tell John he is free to leave.” He knew his personal slave was within ear shot somewhere around him. Greg always was.

Greg was just outside the door. He gave Mycroft a 'Yes, sir.' and left. When he found John, working in the kitchen quietly, he informed him that he was free to leave. The blond slave blinked and then barely put away his things before he was running for the door. Before he stepped out he slowed himself, making it look like he had walked over calmly. But the way he saddled Borak was quick, and he was on the horse's back and followed Dimmock at a quick trot before he knew it. He had a bit of a nasty feeling about heading back to his Master but he ignored it.

Half an hour from home, though, the nasty feeling got larger and made itself known. Victor surrounded them, some of his own slaves on horses circling the pair. John and Dimmock got closer, and Victor smiled. He walked over to John and caressed him, leaving the blond feeling rather dirty.

"Sherlock's parents were killed in just a few days time…what a shame it would be if his favorite slaves were killed in the same way..." He whispered the words in John’s ear, placing a hand on his chest, over his stitches, and pushing hard. John gasped in pain and tried to get away but Victor followed. After a moment, he took his hand away. "I will have you again, John. You and your precious Master. This'll be our little secret, though, right?" John nodded, as did Dimmock, and Victor chuckled. He let them go, and neither slave had problems kicking their horses to get away. They made it back to the house in fifteen minutes.

Sherlock slept long and hard on the couch in the den. He groaned when he heard someone come tell him John was back. A slave, of course, but he didn't pay attention to which one. Hadn't he told them they had the day off? He got up slowly, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. He had a horrid headache as he left the den and went in search of John. He just wanted to find some comfort in his slave's arms. John was the only who could give it to him right now, that much he was certain.

John dismounted Borak and let Dimmock take him away. The slaves were all meandering and playing around, clearly Sherlock had given them an off day. John went into the house and saw Mrs. Hudson in a nightgown, and he raised his eyebrows.

"Ah, there you are John! Head up to the den, last I saw he was sleeping in there."

John thanked her and ran up the stairs. When he saw his Master, John first made sure they were alone. Then he rushed to his Master and put his arms around him, nuzzling into him. He didn't speak, not yet, content to simply hold the other.

Sherlock smiled at the hug and returned it. He didn't want to stand in the hall like this too long though. “Come let’s go to my room.” When the door was closed and they were alone he gave John a firm kiss on the lips. “I didn't want to send you away but Victor ended up staying over the night. He has been banned from the manor though. He and I got in quite the fight. He tried to strangle me.” He probably had hand prints on his neck from the bastard. He hadn’t really looked though, so he didn't know. He was still in yesterday’s clothes, rumpled and disheveled just like the rest of his appearance.

"I thought something like that must have happened. He looked pissed off..." John continued holding Sherlock still. He peered at the hand prints on Sherlock's throat and bit back a growl. Then he realized what he said and continued. "Greg told me when Mycroft got your letter he looked pissed. I thought something…big must have happened for your brother to express emotion." John pressed another kiss to his lips. He didn't want to separate from Sherlock again. He chuckled, though. “Your brother also threatened me…it was kind of endearing honestly."

Sherlock sighed. “Yes, Mycroft will surely yell at me. It won't surprise me if he comes by tomorrow.” He wasn't looking forward to that at all. “Give me a massage?” He was really tense at the moment and still pretty exhausted. He stripped out of his clothes, not bothering to put anything on and just laid down on the bed stomach first. “Or take the day off like everyone else,” he murmured before his eyes closed again. He wasn't sleeping, not yet but he was certain he would be should his slave come over and relax his tense muscles.

"Of course, Sir." John took off his shirt and trousers and walked over to the bed. He climbed on and then straddled Sherlock's hips. He sat there for a moment, and then leaned down over him to simply comfort himself. He had not slept well on the floor, and without Sherlock. He was lucky to have gotten the two hours he suspected he had. After a moment, he sat back up and began to knead Sherlock's back. He began at the top, right below his neck, and steadily worked his way down. He began to hum while he did, working out the knots in his Master's back until they were all smoothed and relaxed and his own arms ached from the effort.

Sherlock gave a groan of satisfaction at the feeling of John's fingers on his back. As he suspected it didn't take long for him to sleep again but he woke up when his slave had finished. He sighed, wishing he had just stayed asleep. He was trying to ignore everything Victor had said. He knew it wasn't true but now the other man had finally wormed his way into his bead. "Victor said a lot of things about you and my other slaves." Another sigh escaped his lips, as he tried to shut off his never-ending mind.

John grinned, glad to hear just how much Sherlock liked his massages. It made him feel a bit more special than the other slaves. He knew it was ridiculous because he already was, but that was his thought. When Sherlock spoke, John laid down in the bed next to him. He tried to forget the way Victor had looked at him in the woods when he'd caught him and Dimmock. He frowned, though, and looked at Sherlock. "What do you mean Sir?" He put an arm around Sherlock to keep him close and stared at his Master.

Sherlock was quiet a long moment before answering. "Victor tried to get in my head, guess he succeeded really." He sighed yet again and curled into John, his head coming to lay on his slave's chest. "Should have just killed him. I wanted to. I know he will try to cause trouble again, that's just how he is." He should have just played nice but he had let emotions get in the way. "Thought I'd give the slaves a day off. Give them a reason to hate me a little less maybe." Usually he was confident and sure but Victor had a way of destroying that in him and he hated it.

John put both his arms around Sherlock as best as he could. He used one hand to stroke his back, listening and frowning. "He's a horrible man…you shouldn't let anything he says stay in your mind Sir. You are much better than him." John dipped his head to nuzzle Sherlock's, humming in agreement. "You should have, but I think that there is a law about that…I worry he will bring his friend Jim into the mix... He and Jim are horrible at staying out of each other's pockets." John scoffed in annoyance, holding his Master tighter when he thought of them. Jim never meant anything good when he came around. He was a monster and quite possibly insane. "Hate you a little less, but still like you more than anybody else who comes here Sir. I'm quite certain they like you more than they like each other. When I was with Victor there were five failed uprisings, and that was just in eight months. I doubt you've had quite so many, so your men and women like you more than you think." He was doing his best to try and comfort him.

Sherlock relaxed into John's arms, finding comfort there easily. He was quiet a long time, as he thought about a few things. "He will probably try and kill me. He wanted to last night. I saw it in his eyes." He was just thinking out loud now. Maybe he should have taken Victor down before his enemy had a chance to kill him first. He sighed a little to himself. He still needed to find his parents killer too. Justice for his mother was long overdue. "I think I will visit Mycroft tomorrow. He hasn't given me any updates on who killed our parents lately."

"I think he wants you. When he used to fuck me, he would call out your name at times. I think he wants you, and maybe eventually kill you, but at his mercy…you'd be his greatest asset." He was glad to feel Sherlock relaxed again. His Master did nothing good for himself when he was tense. It would only lead to some part of him aching. "I thought you said you thought he'd come to you tomorrow?"

Sherlock frowned in thought. It wasn't surprising really, he supposed. Victor was rather controlling. It was one of the reasons he had decided to leave the other man. He wasn't someone controlled easily and Victor was a fool if he thought otherwise. What? Oh right. He had said that hadn't he? "Yes well, in case he doesn't show up by lunch then I will go afterward." He had skipped a meal due to his long nap. "Fetch me a snack John. Just something light and easy to hold me over until dinner. Get something for you too if you want." He reluctantly pulled away from his slave, so John could get out of the bed easier.

John was glad that he could help Sherlock in any way possible. He nodded and gave his Master a kiss as he crawled over him to get off the bed. His shoulder ached quite a bit now, thanks to the massage and Victor's rough press on it, but he didn't show it. When he walked out of the room he went to find Mrs. Hudson first, and was grateful she was in the kitchen fixing dinner for everybody with a few other slaves who were playing with different types of food. "Uh, Mrs. Hudson…"

The woman smiled at him from where she worked. "Hello dear. I thought you two would be in there longer. Catching up and all." She winked at John, and he blushed.

"We-we don't! We haven't... it's not like that." He finally said, and thought 'yet'.

"Oh, yes! I forgot, you don't have that helpful lubrication. Give me a minute and I'll get you some stuff." John's face turned even more red.

"Not...it's not what I came down here for!" He shook his head. "Master wanted some snacks. And I..." He bit his lip, "I saw...Victor met with Dimmock and I on the way back…he told us, me really, that you and I were in danger because we're Master's favorites." 

Mrs. Hudson didn't look impressed, but she noticed how he kept his voice down. "Have you told anybody?" She asked, and John shook his head.

"I don't want him getting hurt going after him, he's…we're both still injured, and Master even more so after last night I'd assume. But can you…just be careful?" He was careful so none of the other slaves heard him.

"I will, love. Don't worry, if Victor did hurt either one of us he'd have all of the slaves here as well as Sherlock to contend with." She comforted him, grabbing some biscuits and milk for both Sherlock and John. She slipped a little vial of oil onto the plate, behind the milk pitcher, and gave it back to John. "Now you go up there and spend some time with him. That arsehat told Sherlock some nasty things last night, and he's going to need all the comfort he can get from you." She winked again and John turned, heading back to the room quickly.

Sherlock sat up in the bed a little after John left. He just sat staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. He only looked away when his slave came back. He managed a small smile and shifted to a slightly more comfortable position so it would be easier to eat. "Has your opinion of me changed, knowing that Victor and I used to be together?" He had been curious about that for awhile and finally just got around to asking. John didn't seem repulsed by him but what if Victor was right? Everyone hated him. He supposed it didn't matter since he was a slave owner and all he really had were slaves. Damn it. How could he let Victor get to him like this?

John made his way to the bed and sat down next to his Master, placing the tray over both of their legs. "Not at all, Sir. You're still my Master, and the best Master I've ever had, and I care for you. Victor is an abusing, controlling, manipulative arse. He likely attempted to use you, and didn't truly see it as a relationship so much as a way to advance his place in society." John took a biscuit and chewed on it. "Has your opinion changed of me since you discovered that Victor fucked me like a whore?" He asked calmly, looking at his Master. Sherlock was not obviously upset, but he wouldn't normally have worried about what people thought of him if not for Victor.

Sherlock was visibly relieved by John's answer. He picked up a biscuit and dunked it in his milk like he had when he was younger. His mother had done it as well. "I was an idiot to even try. He came around after my parents were dead. I was in a pretty dark place. Victor was there and I thought he was trying to help me and the next thing I know I am addicted to cocaine. I almost died of an over dose. Probably would have, if it hadn't been here at the manor and Mrs. Hudson taking action despite Victor trying to stop her. Things ended shortly after that and Mycroft helped me get clean." He shrugged a little. "And in answer to your question, no of course not. There isn't anything I can do about how you were treated by previous Masters but I can now and no one will touch you ever again."

John rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder as he spoke, taking a bite of his biscuit and then sipping his milk. He didn't like knowing that he had almost not known his Master, and he put his hand in Sherlock's to hold and squeeze it. "I'm glad you are here Sir." He bit into his biscuit again. "Well, my opinion hasn't changed just because I know he has touched you. There isn't anything I can do about what he did to you, and I won't judge you about it. If he comes back and tries to touch you again Sir I don't think I can hold myself back from hurting him. I don't want him close to you ever again. You're my Master. You're…mine." John muttered the last word, looking down and nibbling on his biscuits.

Sherlock snuggled into John when he felt the head on his shoulder. “If he comes back, I will kill him. I won't hesitate this time.” His eyes narrowed a little but then his expression softened and he smiled a little at his slave. “And you are mine.” He returned the squeeze in the hand, holding onto John's hand tightly while he ate with his other. “Thank you for staying with me instead of taking the day off like everyone else.”

"Be careful though, Sir. You might lose your status if you do. If you lost your status you would be forced to downsize. Possibly lose just about everything you owned, too, including your slaves." John smiled despite the upsetting thought. It was the first time he had ever wanted to belong to somebody who was an adult. There had been quite a few children he'd liked, but Sherlock was the first semi-grown--because he still had tantrums like a child--that John actually and honestly cared for. "I am taking the day off Sir. I am not cleaning, I'm lying here with you. This is me taking the day off.”

“Yes, I know. I suppose even someone such as me would have to face the consequences of murder. He did threaten me last time in my own home though. I would say every slave here could attest to that, but a slave's word isn't worth much to most.” Sherlock gave a small shrug. Maybe Victor was right about one thing. He was becoming a bit soft these days, but he felt like he was better for it. Not worse. Maybe it was because of John. That was the most likely cause for the most recent changes since they came about while he was on the trip with his slave.

John was quiet, trying to decide if he should tell Sherlock about the incident on the way home, but decided not to. If he did, his Master might try to hunt Victor down and if he did he would have no call to innocence. Slaves were not people, they were animated objects, and if one or two were killed or broken more could always be bought. He noticed Sherlock's glass and how close to empty it was and grabbed the pitcher of milk, picking it up to refill both their glasses. He stared at the vial behind it, and narrowed his eyes and then groaned.  "Mrs. Hudson…"

Sherlock didn't mind the silence that had settled between them for a little while. He ate and drank, finally calming down largely thanks to John he figured. He blinked a little at his slave's groan and followed the gaze to the vial. He raised his eyebrows, a small smirk finding its way to his lips. “I am afraid I'm not much in the mood right now. Perhaps tomorrow or maybe after dinner if my mood improves.” He did lean forward and give John a chaste kiss on the lips though.

"I didn't put it there, Mrs. Hudson did." John spoke a little too quickly perhaps, though he didn't shy away from the kiss or say he didn't want to. He actually rather did, wanted to know what it was like with somebody who actually seemed to care about him and not just his uses, but he was still too nervous to admit it out loud. John broke away from the kiss only to put the tray off the bed, sliding it onto the empty nightstand, and then turned back to Sherlock. He pressed another kiss to his Master's lips, scooting closer to him.

Sherlock smirked a little at John's words. He had no doubt Mrs. Hudson would do such a thing. She seemed to have ideas about them. Perhaps she wasn't entirely wrong about them but they weren't quite there yet. Soon though he supposed. He let his thoughts get distracted with another kiss, also moving closer until he ended up straddling his slave. Okay, perhaps he was more in the mood than he had initially thought. He did quite enjoy kissing John, perhaps he could be convinced to go beyond that.

His Master didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that the vial was put there, so John didn't concern himself too much about it. Especially not with Sherlock's mouth on his own, once again fighting for dominance of the kiss. The one battle that, so far, John found he enjoyed quite a bit. His breath hitched when he realized his Master was on top of his hips and he lowered one arm to teasingly grip Sherlock's bum since it was so close. He grunted a bit in satisfaction, and could feel himself harden just a bit. Well, apparently, he could still get it up quite easily despite the worry of the morning. Who wouldn't, though, with Sherlock bending over him like he was?

Sherlock pulled away from the kiss when John tried to control it. He gave a small shake of his head. “No. Don't. Not right now.” He sighed, eyes closing in frustration but it was with himself. He gave a groan of aggravation and then rolled off John to lay next to his slave once more. The fight for control reminded him too much of Victor. Of their foolish game for dominance. He wasn't even sure if he would want John to do that ever again. Was it ruined now? He rubbed a hand over his face, just trying to stop all the stupid thoughts going through his mind at the moment.

John frowned when Sherlock rolled off of him. He turned to look at his Master with a small smile, putting his hand on his cheek gently. "It's all right, Sir. Really. It'll just be like…us, with me, working up to where you can properly have me.” He pressed a kiss to Sherlock's forehead and rubbed his thumb over Sherlock's cheekbone. "I really do like you, Sir. More than anybody before you. Whatever you need to do is okay with me."

Sherlock relaxed a little from the hand on his cheek. “I like you too John but I'm just...not in the mood right now. I can't stop thinking about Victor and its putting me all sorts of off.” He wasn't sure if what he had just said would upset his slave or not. Should he try to explain? He sighed and his eyes remained shut as he still battled to push the thoughts from his mind. Usually John would make a wonderful distraction but right now it just made things worse really.

"That's all right Sir." John knew he was relaxing but not in the way he wanted. "Perhaps you should sleep more Sir. I need to go check on my horse, and I have yet to give him a name." He finally removed his hand. The slave sat up and winced at the pain in his shoulder, looking at the tray and vial. He'd leave that, in case they needed it later. He doubted it a bit, but it didn't hurt to be prepared. John put his hand on it to rub gently, and looked at Sherlock. "Where is your doctor here, Sir?"

Was John leaving because he had mentioned Victor? Probably. Sherlock didn't think he would be able to sleep. Not now. “I actually don't have one. You are the closest I have now. The one I had, he is the one that poisoned me so I never got another one.” He gave a small shrug but didn't turn to look at his slave. He was pouting now. John was leaving him for some stupid horse. It was his fault probably. He just had to bring of up Victor.

"Oh. He was a bastard." Though he had done the same thing before. John was quiet for a moment. "Would you mind looking at my shoulder for me Sir? It…it's been bothering me. I must have done something this morning, on the way home." He didn’t want to give too much away. It was aching quite a bit not, and he'd have to go ask Mrs. Hudson for something to take some of the pain away. "Do you want to accompany me to see the horse, Sir? Perhaps you could help me think of a name, or ride him if he's up to it. I don't think I am quite yet." John tried to smile but it was a little strained.

Sherlock just wanted to lay on the bed and pout but he couldn't have John's shoulder getting worse either. “Fine.” He sat up with a groan. “Come here, let me look at it.” He wondered how it had gotten aggravated. His slave hadn't been doing that much hard work at the manor lately. Maybe at Mycroft's? Probably. His brother was a bastard like that. “I think I am just going to stay up here for the rest of the night. You could name him Razbityy, it is Russian for wounded or injured.” He pronounced the word 'raz-beady'.

John scooted around so Sherlock could look at it easier. It was red and, now that he was looking at it, John could feel it throbbing. Victor had been pressing it really hard, so it made sense for it to hurt so badly now. The wound was a little swollen and John bit the inside of his cheek, glad at least that all the stitches were still in and relatively unbothered. "Razbityy..." John repeated, rolling the name around on his tongue. "I'll see how he likes it, though I think it'll work for him. We can call him Raz for short."

Sherlock furrowed his brows and they slowly narrowed as his observant gaze missed nothing. The wound was not exasperated from work. Someone had laid hands on his slave and he felt his blood boil. “Did Mycroft touch you? I will not allow that, I don't care if you were working in his manor.” His fingers curled into fists as his anger rose. “The stitches are still in place it looks like. Mrs. Hudson should have something for the pain. She is the only one I trust with any sort of medicine.”

"No, it wasn't Mycroft. He hardly even looked at me Sir." John told him quickly, not wanting Sherlock to get into a fight with his brother. "I…I must have been hit with a branch and not realized it. Dimmock and I were riding at a rapid pace. We were both eager to be back here." He smiled endearingly, hoping to calm his Master down a little. "I'll go now, then, yes?" He grabbed his clotheswith his off hand and stood. "I'll be in the barn after I see Mrs. Hudson. May I leave now Sir?" He asked; even though it was his off day he still felt it important to ask permission before he left.

Sherlock frowned. Someone had done that to John, but who? Why wouldn't his slave tell him? It wasn't some damn tree branch. The inflammation would only be on one side, not both. Someone had squeezed that shoulder on purpose. He was going to pout angry now, while John was away. “Yes, that is fine John. Enjoy your day off.” He laid back down on the bed, turning his back to the door. He was thinking furiously and he was so angry it was hard to think clearly.

"I'll come back in, if you want me…Sherlock." John put a hand on his shoulder and then left. He found Mrs. Hudson soon after he put his clothes on and asked her for something to ease the pain in his shoulder. He brought them to the kitchen and got a glass of water, then put them both down his throat. The medication was foul but he took it anyway, making a face as he made for the stables. He saw that his horse was still in his stall, eating, and John walked over to him. The nameplate on it was blank, and John was curious if Sherlock would let him etch his name into it permanently.

Sherlock blinked at the use of his first name. He had never had a slave use it before. Well, the one other time was John as well but it had been during a sexual act and he had let it go. It stroked his already big ego to have his name called when pleasuring someone else. This was different. He could talk to John about it later. He figured his slave would come back at some one point. He sighed and just kept brooding, eyes closing and without meaning to he fell into a restless sleep.

John spent a couple hours out in the stable. He got his horse out and put it in the round pen that was there for exercise, watching him run and stretch until he feared the wound might open again. Then he put Raz, as he'd already taken to calling him, back in his stall. He actually managed to converse with a couple other slaves, Dimmock and Gregson who didn’t tell John their first names out of privacy which he respected as he didn't tell them his last, for an hour and a half. Mrs. Hudson called them all in for dinner, and when he finished eating John took a tray up for Sherlock. He opened the door quietly and slid the tray onto the nightstand, careful to be quiet. He took the empty tray out and gave it to one of the passing slaves who took it down to the kitchen for cleaning. John cleaned up the room of their clothes for a moment. He'd only gotten a few things picked up before he'd had to leave, and did his best to fix it more now. When he was done, he started the fire and sat next to it, the fiction story he'd thought about burning in his hands as he read and waited for his Master to wake.

Sherlock was tossing and turning in the bed and he started awake shortly after his slave sat down next to the fire. He groaned. He felt like shit. That had been a horrid attempt at sleep. His head hurt and he was still in a foul mood. He smelled food next to him but it made him nausea instead of hungry. John must be in the room then. He sat up slowly and looked over to the fire that was now going. “I'm going to bathe,” he muttered. He hadn't redressed since laying on the bed so he simply went the bathroom and started the water.

"Would you like me to join you Sir?" John asked, looking up from his book and putting another log in the fire. He watched his Master move, obviously sore, and frowned. He should go ask Mrs. Hudson for some others for Sherlock, like she had given him. His arm was not bothering him anymore. He stood and walked into the bathroom, looking at his Master. "Do you require my assistance? I..." John quieted, not wanting to aggravate his Master any further.  "I can go get some soothers for you, like Mrs. Hudson gave to me if you'd like."

“Assistance would be nice,” Sherlock admitted as he slipped into tub once it was full. “You and your magic fingers would be nice. If I am still sore I will take something. Now come, take care of your Master. He needs you.” He gave his slave a small smirk but it disappeared as he got quite serious. “And John, I know we have a unique relationship but you aren't to use my first name. I wouldn't mind just us in here but it could become habit and accidentally used outside these doors.” That would kill his credibility. Assuming he had any, anymore. Victor was probably being a prat and spreading all sorts of rumors about him and how he was losing his nerve as a Master.

John did as Sherlock said, going to sit behind him as usual. He waited until his Master was settled to touch him, careful with his hands. He wasn't sure if his touch would work because it was more than just his muscles that hurt now, but he didn't think it would hurt to try. He smiled until his Master spoke of using his name, and then he looked at his hands. "Yes Sir. Of course. I don't know if anybody besides Mrs. Hudson would know who I was speaking of if I did say it around them, but I will be better about it." Though knowing he couldn't speak his Master's name except in pleasure gave him a strange feeling of...almost pain. His Master could speak his name any time he wanted, but John couldn't. John was a slave. His options were limited, when he was allowed options. Although his hands kept working as though nothing had disrupted his thoughts, John let himself get lost in them. As much as he hated to, he focused on his lost freedom once again. If he were free he could call his Master by his given name. If he were free…they could have an actual relationship. His heart gave a pang at that but John ignored it. Feelings had no real place here.

Sherlock sighed a little, wishing things were different between him and John. Maybe if his slave kept in the room only, except he had already said otherwise. God, Victor was right he was becoming a weak Master. Another sigh escaped his lips but he managed to relax due to John's hands on his back. It was his stomach that was the most tender and he had managed to just ignore those pains and bruises all day for the most part. It was his mind that felt the most crushed at the moment, which was a huge blow considering it was the thing he used and valued the most.

As John continued to work on Sherlock, he felt himself growing more and more upset. He sat back and released his Master's shoulders when he felt himself growing tense. "Done Sir." John looked down at his hands. The hands that had helped pleasure his Master, the hands that he had not tried to kill yet. The first man he had pledged his loyalty to, without even thinking. John stared at his hands, completely engrossed in them. He had tried to kill so many people, but not Sherlock. He didn't want to; he wanted to be more with Sherlock. Be better. But he couldn't. He was just a slave, he couldn't do anything, and if he was it was only making Sherlock seem weak in the eyes of others. No wonder Mycroft had threatened him. With thoughts like these…he was tempted to tell Sherlock to kill him before he went too far with John.

The massage hadn't worked nearly as well as all the other ones. Everything felt different now. He really was slipping. Sherlock sighed and mumbled his thanks to John before he got out. He hadn't really washed up or anything. He probably should have since he didn't bathe at all yesterday. Oh well. He wasn't feeling very proper or Master like, so there was no point in being presentable anyway. He didn't even dry off, water just dripping on the floor as he went. The bed sheets weren't clean so he didn't care about the moisture that got all over them. He sighed, laid down and curled up. He was hating himself right now and it seemed John was too. Maybe his slave had never really liked him, he had just fooled himself. Once more Victor had been right.

John didn't move off the floor. He let himself fall back, looking up at the ceiling blankly. He took a couple deep breaths and turned his gaze to Sherlock. "You shouldn't let me stay Sir. You should sell me or kill me. I've never been any good to anyone. Look at how much I've already ruined things for you." He spoke calmly, his voice containing no emotion. "It'll only get worse from here. Your brother warned me that he would harm me if I harmed you, and I promised I wouldn't. You should kill me now before I can."

Sherlock blinked at what John said and turned to look at his slave. “You haven't ruined anything. It is all Victor. That bastard. He's just...got this way of getting in my head like no one else can. You are the best slave I've ever had and its barely been a month having you. I could never let you go to another Master, knowing how horrid you would be treated, let alone bring myself to kill you. Unless you tried to kill me first, maybe but even then...I fear my affections for you might not let me do that.” He gave a small shrug at his admission. His slave would probably take advantage of that now but he just didn't care anymore. He didn't care about anything right now.

"That's exactly why you shouldn't keep me Sir. It'll only get worse. Affections do nothing for you in the world we live in. Especially one for slaves." John turned back to the ceiling. "Look at me. In danger of falling for a Master, and nothing I can do about it." Perhaps end his own life, but he'd never had the courage even when he'd had the chances. Victor was only the catalyst of this, of proving that he was ruining Sherlock. John turned his back to Sherlock, trying to get himself away from such low thoughts but it was hard. It was so hard, right now. All the things he wanted, that he couldn't have. "Maybe I should so you will end this before it gets worse."

Did John just say what he thought was said? Sherlock got out of the bed, still a bit damp as he moved over to his slave. He knelt in front of John and leaned in to kiss his slave hard on the lips and pulled away panting. “I don't care what anyone says. I need you John. We can find a way to make this work, as long as you stay.” Perhaps he could even find a way to free his slave. There had to a be a law somewhere he could use to his advantage although almost all laws involving slaves kept them strictly in place and it was difficult to be given freedom unless working off a debt.

John looked up at Sherlock, tears forming in his eyes. He raised his hands to hold onto Sherlock's shoulders with his lips trembling. He was tired and scared and was most likely falling for Sherlock because he couldn't imagine anybody but his Master holding and kissing him. But there were so many laws and judging voices and faces, and what if Sherlock realized John wasn't worth it? "I don't want to go, Sir. But I want you safe and I…I want you." John held Sherlock tightly, sniffing. He couldn't care less about the water drops falling onto him occasionally. "I think I might be…I might be falling for you." Dangerously quickly, and he was in no control of it.

Sherlock frowned at the tears. Had he gotten it wrong? He was rather rubbish at this sort of thing. “How am I supposed to be safe if my body guard leaves me?” He gave John a small smirk. “I want you too. I can't imagine you not by my side. I'm not sure someone like me is capable of the same sentiment but I can try. I know it is frowned upon and I'll get all sorts of stares but I don't care what anyone else thinks. Let them talk. It isn't going to change the fact I sell some of the best trained slaves in the business. As long as it doesn't interfere with my work, all people will do is talk but people do little else.”

John pulled himself into a sitting position and wrapped his arms around Sherlock, pressing his face into his Master's chest. He was quiet, his shoulders shaking, and his grip on Sherlock was tight. "You could find somebody else. Somebody…better or trained…" His voice was muffled by Sherlock's chest as he breathed in the scent of his Master for comfort. "You can, Sir. You could have left me to die after I was shot. You could have done a lot that would show you didn't have any sentiment." He wasn't so sure he believed Sherlock's idea of not caring what anybody thought but he hoped like hell it was the truth. "I'm sorry I'm so…ridiculous Sir. But everybody else has…given me up at the first sign of trouble…"

Sherlock held onto John, unsure what else to do at the moment. This really wasn't his area. “You haven't caused me any trouble. If you are talking about Victor, things were shaky between us since I broke things off with him. This sort of fall out was inevitable, you just helped it along some maybe. Which I should thank you for because the arrangement I had with Victor was rather toxic and needed to end. To be honest, you were the one who gave me the courage to do it. Victor would still have his hooks in me otherwise. He kept talking about you and it just made me so angry and it gave me the strength to banish him from my manor.” He tilted his head to kiss John on the head since the lips weren't available to kiss at the moment.

John shook his head, smiling into Sherlock's chest. It wasn't just Victor, it was with the other slaves, and with Sally Donovan, and Molly Hooper, and even Mycroft. "I'm glad I could help you like that Sir…He was always the worst sort of man." He wasn't so upset, now. And here was another example of Sherlock's sentiment. He was comforting John, though he didn't know how, he was trying for his sake. With a last shuddering breath, John calmed himself and looked up at his Master. "I'm…sorry Sir. I don't often…do that…I try not to…but with everything…" He put his head in Sherlock's chest again momentarily. "I'm sorry, I will try not to let it happen again."

Sherlock didn't see John as any sort of trouble. The trip had been rough but he had enjoyed that, despite the peril they had both ended up in. It had been exciting and thrilling. Maybe going out more would help things get better. He didn't know what else to say or do, so he just held John and let his slave get out whatever it was that needed to get out. Strangely, this had helped him as well. To forget about Victor and how that bastard had managed to get into his head. He was fine now though since he finally talked things out.

With the worry and fear and nerves from Sherlock's upset state affection his own out of his system, John relaxed again. "We should probably sleep now Sir." He reached up to grasp Sherlock's face but unsure if he was allowed to pull him down into a kiss or not. His Master hadn't liked it the last time he had taken a bit of control, and John was unsure how he'd feel about it now. The slave let out a large, jaw-aching yawn and scrubbed his face. "On second thought, I ought to bathe before getting into the bed." He was dirty, stinky, and smelled like horse.

Did that mean everything was all right then? Sherlock released John, a small smirk crossing his lips. "I suppose I will let you bathe but only if you read to me." He got up off the floor, so his slave would have room to move. He moved towards his bed. "Suppose I better eat or Mrs. Hudson will be yelling at both of us." He managed a faint smile as he turned back to look at John. With a small sigh, he sat down on the bed and pulled the tray into his lap. He ate slowly, not really caring that the food was cold by now. He wasn’t very hungry but he should probably eat anyway.

"Oh dear, I'm not sure if I can read to you…see, I've got this ache on my lips…it might need to be kissed better before I do." John filled the bath for himself. Once it was ready he stripped, carefully piling his clothes, and stepped in. He was still a bit shaky, and laying on the ground had done nothing to help his shoulder, but he wasn't feeling completely worthless anymore. He was embarrassed that his Master had seen that, and knew that he was falling in love with him. He bathed quickly, and then grabbed himself a towel so he could dry off when he was done. He put his dirty clothes in the basket for them and grabbed his sleeping trousers, picking up the book for reading and sitting next to his Master with a small, minutely nervous smile.

Sherlock managed to eat half his food and then set the tray on the nightstand. He leaned over to give John a quick kiss on the lips before snuggling into his slave, getting quite comfortable. He wasn't sure he would be able to sleep tonight but maybe with John's soothing voice he would be able to drift off eventually. He closed his eyes, trying to help prepare him to slumber. At least his mind had quit raging at him and he was finally calming down.

The slave grinned to himself and opened the book. His heart still ached with worry that this was all just some play for his Master, but he pushed it aside to begin reading without it in his voice. They had gotten to the more disgusting chapters where there were images of wounds and injuries, and John sometimes paused to bring them to his face and comment on them. He was intrigued by it all and wished he knew more, greater, about the medical field. Perhaps he could find more books on it and teach himself…that wouldn't be too bad. He could be a doctor for the other slaves, as well as his Master.

Sherlock listened with rapt interest and opened his eyes to look at all the diagrams and photos the book had to offer. John also seemed keen on learning what was inside. Despite how soothing he found his slave's voice to be, he still wasn't falling asleep. "You already know some healing techniques, right? I would trust you to be my doctor. I have all sorts of books on anatomy and the like if you want to read those. I could get more if you required further need of it. You seem just as interested as me in this book." He gave John a small smile.

John let the book fall from his hands in order to give his Master a kiss. He was there for a couple moments, pleased beyond belief. “I would love to Sir. That would be…amazing, Sir, really." He leaned back, too excited to fall asleep now. He could be a doctor now. He could help other people beyond basic first aid. He could actually do something other than clean up after his Master. John picked the book back up and glanced at Sherlock. "Should I keep reading?"

Sherlock smiled into the kiss and returned it. “Good, we will do that then. I need a good man I can trust to be my doctor. I trust you with my life John.” He smiled again and gave his slave another kiss on the lips. He did enjoy kissing John quite a bit. “Yes, please. I'm afraid I won't be able to sleep much tonight.” Although his slave reading and the fact that John's mood had lifted, his did as well.

John was thrilled to hear his Mater trusted him with his life. He wasn't entirely sure just how far that trust went but he would be sure not to break it. "I don't think I will be either Sir." He turned his head back to the book. He began to read, some of the words a bit difficult to pronounce, but he didn't let it stop him. After an hour or two more of reading the light from the fire grew dim and he was only just growing tired. His eyes barely were falling, but the words were becoming blurry. "I think that's all I can do for the night Sir." Though he would try to do more if he was told to.

Sherlock helped John with words that his slave needed. While maybe he wasn't familiar with them, he knew enough Latin to get through them and understand the meaning or at least get the basic jest. “It is fine. Sleep. Maybe I will be able to as well.” He took the book gently from John and placed it next to the tray. He snuggled into his slave, resting his head on John's shoulder and an arm draped lazily across his slave's stomach. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It took a little while but eventually he drifted off into a restful slumber.

It amused John how his Master was always so in control, yet when they slept he was always below John. He didn't want to ask about it in case it upset him, though. Even when he was told to sleep, it did not come easy. He lay awake with his eyes shut and listening to Sherlock's breathing for a while afterwards. Tomorrow it was likely Mycroft would be coming over. That would probably not be a fun meeting. The elder Holmes was not as kind as the younger. It was probably due to more time living with their father. John stroked Sherlock's hair and matched his sleeping breath with his own, hoping it would make him follow the other into sleep. When he did, John sighed. "I will protect you with everything I have, Sir, just as long as you never give up on me.

Sherlock slept sound curled against John. He yawned as he stretched and opened up his eyes slowly. He smiled to himself, liking waking up next to his slave this way. “Time to get up John.” He gave his slave a quick kiss on the lips. He disentangled himself from John and got out of bed. The sheets were in dire need of washing. He got dressed in his usual posh attire. “After breakfast, get new linens for the bed then come join me in the den and continue your work cleaning there.”

John woke from the kiss on his lips, though for the first time in long time his eyes remained blurry with sleep. He sat up, swaying a little, and nodded as he yawned. Sleep had not come easy, and yet he wanted to go back to sleep he knew he would be unable to. "Yes Sir." He swung his legs over the bed to stand, rubbing his eye tiredly and changing into work clothes again. "I'm almost done cleaning it Sir. What shall I do when I am?" He was relieved he knew where the linens were, and hoped to wash the sheets himself. He'd be embarrassed if somebody else saw the evidence of what he and Sherlock had…been up to just a couple days ago.

Sherlock gave a small shrug. “I am almost all caught up on my paperwork. I should be finished by lunchtime. Perhaps we could cross one of those things off your list among other things.” He gave John a smirk and raised a suggestive eyebrow. He moved over to his slave and gave another kiss on the lips, but this one lingered longer. He brought a hand up to run along John's face before he pulled away. “Time to start the day.” Fingers trailed down his slave's chest before he walked away though and went out the door to head down the stairs to get the first meal of the day.

'What if your brother comes by?' John wanted to ask, but he kept his mouth shut against the question. His face turned a bit red but hopeful at the idea of crossing something off his list, wondering which one Sherlock would want to do as well. John groaned a little when his Master pulled away, he would have been much happier to continue, but he followed the taller man out the door with the tray from last night. He hoped, for their sakes, that Mycroft didn't come. John was actually feeling a bit needy, and he saw Mrs. Hudson staring at him, frowning when she noticed he was walking perfectly fine. He hurriedly put the dishes in the sink and watched Dimmock take Sherlock's food out, greeting him when the slave returned with a smile. He actually went to sit between him and Gregson, wishing he knew their first names, but they spoke friendly to him all during breakfast.

Sherlock ate quietly, glancing over to the slaves for moment. Apparently, John was making friends. He supposed it was just a matter of time his slave would hate him like all the others. Damn it. There was no reason to be jealous. He was just being ridiculous. He sighed quietly to himself and stared at his breakfast while he finished off his food. He left once his plate was empty and disappeared into the den to finish off the paper work he had managed to dwindle down into a small stack.

When John finished eating he looked over to see his Master gone.

Dimmock and Gregson looked over as well and grinned at each other.

"Sorry, Johnny. Looks like we drove him off by talking to you," Dimmock told John.

"It's alright, I think. He probably went to go finish paperwork." John was looking at his plate while he spoke.

Dimmock leaned in close for a minute. "Did you…tell him about yesterday?" 

John shook his head. "No. He was…upset. I thought it best not to…"

"Well, whatever you're doing to him…keep it up. And pray he sells Anderson and a couple others soon. They're annoying as hell." Dimmock groaned and leaned away, and John giggled.

"I'm sure he will soon. Why don't you soak Anderson's bed or put spiders in it?"

"Not a bad idea…maybe in a couple days when we can collect them." Gregson grinned at John, and he nodded and stood.

Within a few minutes he had entered the den and went to where he had left off working. He removed the notebooks he wanted, setting them on the ground by the bookshelves, and looked at his Master. With a smile on his face at being alone with him again, John hummed quietly and worked hard, wanting to be done quickly but wanting to do a good job.

Sherlock blinked a little at how quickly John had come to the den. He thought his slave would be longer since the linens needed changed. Maybe John was just quicker than he thought. He shrugged it off and continued working. He was just glad his slave was in the room with him. John gave him a sense of comfort even when they weren't touching. “Tomorrow I will start selling off the slaves we discussed and a few I had in mind already.” He spoke to John without looking up from his writing, intent on getting the entire stack done before it was time for lunch.

John gathered the notebooks he wanted and nodded with a smile. "Who are you going to sell then, Sir? And may I go drop these off in…the room?" He had almost called it 'our room', and didn't because he wasn't sure how it would be received. "I would like to stack these by the bed for later reading, along with a couple of your books on anatomy." He had forgotten about the linens until then and wanted to go change them discretely, though he thought Mrs. Hudson might have done it just to see if they had gotten up to anything the night before. Meddling woman she was, and John still adored her. He could only hope despite the embarrassment, though she was looking forward to knowing she was right…he held in a sigh and went to stand by Sherlock. There were only a couple more shelves to go through, and John knew he could get it done quickly.

Sherlock shrugged a little. “Anderson like you suggested and the others. A few I find to be rather lazy. They could do more work in a day but they don't. I don't like being slow walked. They think I don't notice but I do. And yes, that is fine. Just do it quickly. Mrs. Hudson probably got the linens changed since you obviously forgot to.” He looked up at John with a smirk. “Have my promises for today distracted you that much?” The smirk got bigger as he just looked at his slave, clearly amused about the whole thing and not in the least upset about his orders not being followed.

John's face turned red. Of course, he couldn't hide the fact he'd forgotten. "Yes, Sir. You tend to make me forget a lot of things, though not generally pertaining to the work." Mostly it was his previous vows of never bowing to any Master, which he had all but thrown out the window. He was hoping that his two new friends did their jobs well, he didn't want to see them leave. "Mrs. Hudson is both a saint and a sinner for the things she implies, Sir, and I don't know if I love her for it or if I fear her." John smiled, glad that he was not in trouble for his lapse of thought. "It is the first time I've had any say in…sexual acts of the such, so I am…eager."

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh. He did enjoy seeing John get so flustered over things. He got up from the chair and advanced on his slave. “Eager? I'd like to see just how eager you are.” He kept moving forward to back John into a wall, a slow smirk crossing his lips. He pressed his lips to his slave's, his tongue wasting no time is seeking entrance inside of John's mouth. Hopefully his sudden actions wouldn't make his slave panic, given the other man's history with previous Masters. He just wanted to give John a taste of things to come.

John backed up, smiling and red faced, as his Master approached. When the man was teasing and joyous like this, John found it hard to believe how people disliked him. "I'm certain I can show you, Sir, but I fear my arms are a bit full at the moment." He accepted the intrusion into his mouth as soon as it appeared. He never minded kisses, even as sudden as this. Kisses had never been a part of his previous Masters regimen at all, so he had only good memories of them with Sherlock. John shifted his hold on the books and removed one hand to hold onto Sherlock's hair, trying to be gentle.

Sherlock smiled into the kiss. “Pull it,” he murmured when he felt the hand in his hair. He liked things like that or at least he had with Victor. Damn it. Just don't think about that bastard. He kissed John harder, but had to pull away to breathe, panting a little. God, he didn't want to wait until after lunch now but he needed to finish up that stupid paperwork so he could start selling off slaves tomorrow. Then things should go better around the manor. “We'll continue this later.” He gave his slave another kiss on the lips but this one was quick and didn't linger. He moved back to his desk so he could do more work, even though he much would rather be tangled up with John.

John did, though not very hard. He wasn't sure of the repercussions with the act, wasn't sure how Sherlock would react to it, though he did want to. John grunted as his head was pressed back into the wall, but he didn't try to escape. The slave found he actually kind of liked it, being kissed so roughly. John, loving the kiss, was actually glad when his Master pulled away. He was definitely enjoying it, and if he focused on it he'd be having trouble walking to the room. He let his fingers run through Sherlock's hair and nodded. "I should hope so." He exited the room with one last glance back at his Master. He hurried to their own, and found that the sheets had been changed. Mrs. Hudson had left them a note, and the vial had been moved closer and a second one placed next to it. 'Found the list, thought you might need more. MH' John dropped the notebooks, straightened the sheets and pillows some, and flushed at the note. "Fear her or love her?" He questioned himself, making sure the room was otherwise clean and then returning to the den. The other slaves remained elsewhere, completely out of John's way as he went back to the den. He could hear Dimmock calling to somebody through an open window on his way back, and saw him shouting at Anderson as he tried to work with one of the horses. God, Anderson was an idiot… John returned to the den after shaking his head and did his best to ignore the way his body told him to go to his Master and beg for anything.

Sherlock couldn't help but look up at John when came in and gave his slave a warm smile before looking back down at his work. It was hard to concentrate on work when he was thinking about all sorts of things he could do with John later. He forced himself to focus though, he really did need to finish the stack of papers in front of him. He managed to do just that just before midday and he looked up to John once more. “Finish cleaning by chance? Because I would quite like to entertain my thoughts after lunch.”

John had finished sorting and cleaning the bookshelves, and was dusting the mantle with the tongue and skull on it. "Just about Sir." He leaned up on his toes to reach a bit that he couldn't see. He tottered on his toes and managed to scrape it, stretching his right shoulder. He stepped back down carefully, and then turned. "Ready for lunch Sir?" John questioned with a bright smile. The past few hours of cleaning had been more difficult than the rest and he had a light sweat on him, his face just tinted red from effort. His breath left him in a rush when he thought about after lunch. Yes, he was definitely done. He had made sure of it.

Sherlock watched John finish cleaning up, a small smile on his lips. He nodded and got up. “Yes, more than ready.” Really, he was ready for what came after lunch with his slave. He left the den and moved to the dining room table. It didn't take long from him to be served and he managed not to eat too quickly. He didn't want to make things too obvious, although Mrs. Hudson was probably smiling to herself as she watched them. He didn't look up to confirm that though, and just continued eating.

John walked right behind his Master, following up until they reached the dining room. He separated from him and ignored Mrs. Hudson looking between him and Sherlock. He ate lunch as normally as he could, chatting with the other two he had become acquainted with. He almost missed a couple bites thinking about what was to come next, after lunch, and they laughed at him. John had to keep from looking over at Sherlock, biting his lip between bites. When lunch was over, he stood and went to the room on the pretense of cleaning and waited for his Master to join him.

Sherlock finished eating and went up the stairs a few minutes after John. Although if last time was any indication, his slave would be rather vocal and everyone would know anyway. He smirked at the thought as he walked into his room. “Did you decide what you wanted to today?” He wasn't sure what John had in mind so he didn't strip just yet, but he did move towards his slave. He kissed John on the lips, moaning softly into it. He didn't want to waste any more time doing anything other than touching his slave in some manner.

"Um…" John held his list, which he had picked up shortly after entering, and looked at it. "I don't really know, Sir. Maybe, um…prostate…pleasuring?" He questioned before his Master kissed him. He felt Sherlock moan into it and couldn't help but gasp at how it felt against his mouth. He dropped the list and raised his hands to grasp Sherlock's hair again, tugging gently at the strands. He could feel the desire in his Master. "Unless you…wanted to…do something…else?"

Sherlock found it amusing how nervous John seemed to be now. “No that's fine,” he murmured when the kiss ended. “Do you know what you are doing or do you want me to show you first?” He smirked a little. He had never considered doing this for a slave first but he had gotten John off before without much of a problem and completely clothed. He had seen enough of it from his experiments he was very confident he could reenact what he had seen.

Was his Master offering to touch him and pleasure him? John had been hoping but had thought he'd be doing it with Sherlock watching. His touch would be much better, but John wanted to be sure. "I…um…I don't know how to, Sir. Are you…would you…?" He didn't know how to phrase it exactly and his face was turning red quite quickly. He wanted to be less embarrassed but he supposed that the first time you had sex and you wanted to it could be a bit embarrassing. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and reminded himself that this was Sherlock, his Master, and whatever he wanted John would be okay with. Because that was what he had promised, and he really did feel that way. And it seemed that they both wanted the same thing right now.

Sherlock watched John with an amused smirk. It was so easy to make his slave turn red and he rather enjoyed watching just how flustered the other got. "If you aren't sure, someone has to teach you, don't they? I don't want to share you with anyone. Not even other slaves or I would have one of my experienced ones teach you before I would ever let you lay with me." He moved in for another kiss, preferring that at the moment rather than move on to other things just yet.

John's face remained red the entire time his Master spoke. He smiled a bit nervously, but he was actually quite excited. "I don't want anybody except you to ever touch me again Sir…" He leaned into the kiss and let out a happy moan. He didn't want to have any part of him off of his Master, not for a while. He enjoyed these touches and wanted them to last a long time.

Sherlock only broke the kiss to breathe, panting a little. "After I finish you off may I finally take you as my own?" The thought was very appealing to him but he wasn't sure if John was ready for that. God, he wanted to. He had never really fantasized about anyone before, but he couldn't stop his mind from running wild with thoughts about his slave. He shifted his weight a little to fix his trousers. He really wanted John to say yes. There were so many different things he could to his slave and he was certain he could come up with more as time went on.

The idea of his Master taking him so completely had John whimpering and nodding. "I…I want to, Sir, we…we can try. I'd like to. I want to…feel you." His face remained its bright red color. He couldn't believe he was speaking like he was but knew it was nothing compared to what others had said to him. It was the fact that he wanted it that made it so different and new and a bit embarrassing. "I'll always be yours anyway, Sir. Only yours. I want to feel you, and I want to…be everything you want and deserve." John looked up into Sherlock's eyes, trying to smile. "I want to. Let's try."

Sherlock gave a genuine smile. Brilliant. It was clear John's words had pleased him. "Good." He moved in to kiss his slave again. While he was filled with desire, he wasn't in a hurry to do it. He didn't want it to be rushed and sloppy like he usually was with his other slaves. He did press his hips into John though, a moan escaping his lips as he felt his erection press against his slave with his trousers causing the most wonderful feeling friction. His tongue moved against John's lips, to get inside and explore.

It was thrilling to feel his Master's length against him and not fear it. He breathed out in a rush, the smile on Sherlock's face so beautiful it took his breath away. His own length was getting harder the longer Sherlock touched him, and he rolled his hips against his Master's. John opened his mouth willingly, tangling his tongue with Sherlock's and his hands in Sherlock's hair like he was hoping their bodies soon would be as well. When he thought he would get off from the friction of their trousers moving against him alone, he pulled back from his master. "Sir I'm…if we don't start soon we may have to wait until later…or another day." He panted lightly, hands still in Sherlock's hair from where he'd been squeezing and tugging.

Sherlock closed his eyes at the feeling of the hand in his hair. He liked that a lot, something he hadn't realized until now. They opened again when John pulled away and heard his slave's words, a smirk on his lips. “Eager, are you? Good, I like that. Disrobe completely then and lay down on the bed on your back,” he instructed. He got a pair of thin, smooth gloves and put them on. He was looking forward to being inside of John but first he was going to get his slave off as promised. He stripped down as well, and when John was ready he sat on the bed. “Spread your legs and bend your knees for me.” He leaned over and grabbed one of the vials, getting oil all over the gloves. There was no such thing as too much lubricant. “You want to wear gloves for two reasons, one it is just more sanitary. Two and most importantly, the smooth gloves avoid any unwanted fingernails accidentally poking anything inside.” He wasn't trying to be so clinical about everything, he just wanted John to be informed of what was going on and even able to repeat the process at a later date.

"Can you blame me Sir?" John asked as he followed the orders, pulling off his clothes carefully. "You're gorgeous." And he wasn't being paid to do this, nor was he being forced. He wanted to, wanted to get John off and watch him. The slave got on the bed and laid back, watching his Master. He eyed the other man's cock again and swallowed. That would be going inside of him. John was both nervous and thrilled. It wouldn't be forced, this time. Sherlock would be taking care of him. He did have to giggle, though. "It's more sanitary, and we're using oil as lubrication." John grinned. He was doing his best to ignore his erection between his legs, though with his Master between them it was a bit difficult because he had to look past it. "Sanitary and no unwanted scratches where you can't put a poultice on them. Got it." Maybe, one day, he'd get to do this to Sherlock. He'd need to know it then. He was nervous when he watched Sherlock settle and felt the finger against his entrance, but he made himself relax. He wanted this; it would be alright. Better than, if the notebook was correct.


	15. Chapter 15

Sherlock smirked a bit and glanced down at himself. Was he? He supposed he wasn't that bad looking he supposed. He had actually never thought about it before. He arched a brow at all the giggles but didn't comment on them. He nodded when John seemed to grasp the basic concepts so far. “If you do it right, you don't even have to force the finger in. With patience and work, I just have to lubricate the outside and eventually it will just slide in on its own.” He did just that and when the hole was ready, his finger slid in with ease. “The prostate gland is located under the bladder. Right about here.” He gently pressed his finger against it to see how his slave would respond.

John was trying to pay attention, he really was, but the finger around his entrance was so foreign and new that his mind kept going back to it. It probed him without entering a couple times, and he had to remind himself to breath when it did. He looked at Sherlock, watching how his Master's never seemed to leave his entrance. It was a bit unnerving, being under such scrutiny, but nice at the same time. He was completely calm and his erection flagging a bit when the finger finally slid in completely. He breathed harshly for a second, and looked at his Master. He listened and felt and once again lost sense of himself once that spot inside of him was pressed. He hissed and his back arched a little, gasping at the sudden pleasure that shot through his spine. "Ohh..." he moaned, opening his eyes and looking at the ceiling.

Sherlock smiled at the response. He had seen it done plenty of times before but had never actually done it himself, so he was pleased he had been able to do it so easily. He slid his finger back and then pressed it forward again. He began a slow and steady pace, that gradually picked up in as he went. He kept his gaze on John the whole time, wondering if this alone would get his slave off or if some more touching would be needed. Experiments showed it was possible but climax was reached quicker when the receiver was getting stroked as well. He reached out with his other hand and timed his pumps with his finger inside of John.

John could see the smile from the corner of his eye, but he wasn't paying too much attention to it. His Master was hitting that every time his finger moved in or out of his body, dragging it long teasingly, and John couldn't stop the whimpers that escaped from his throat. "S-sir…" He moaned, and began to thrust back against the finger. The quickened pace was wonderful, and John wanted more. The hand wrapped around his cock was wonderful as well, and he gasped as he was pleasured from both his arse and his cock. "Oh...Oh!" He gasped, finding that he was rapidly approaching his climax already. John bit his lip and tossed his head back, not wanting to come yet. It had only been a few minutes, to come so soon was pathetic. The slave clenched his eyes shut and whimpered again. "Fu... fuck S-s-sir I'm close-se!" He moaned, tilting his head to look at his Master.

Sherlock continued to watch and gauge John's reaction, a pleased smirk on his face. "Yes, I see that." He thought about entering his slave now, his own erection was throbbing and leaking. John was also well prepared but managed to find the self-control to wait until he had finished his slave off first. He wondered if John would say his name during the climax and found himself hoping that his slave would. He was certain he would find it pleasing as the last time he had gotten John off.

John whined at the words and tossed his head, coming just a few moments after he had told his Master. He gasped and shuddered, his Master's name coming out in syllables and gasps as his hips stuttered. His heart was thundering in his chest as he came down from the high of orgasm, finding his stomach sticky and splattered in come. There were tears in his eyes and he was trying to get his breath back, staring at the ceiling. The slave took a moment to compose himself a bit, gathering his thoughts, before looking down at his Master. "That…was amazing."

Sherlock smiled back, not minding the mess that had been made. He removed his finger from John and released his slave's now limp cock. He took off the gloves in such a way that the one with come on it would be inside the other one to help minimize any more mess getting on the bed. He tossed them on the floor carelessly. He grabbed the other vial and slicked himself down quite a bit, until it was dripping off him. He used the remaining oil to rub around John's entrance. “Are you ready?” He straddled his slave but didn't slide in yet.

John groaned a little at the way the fingers removing themselves from his cock felt, feeling a bit over sensitized. He watched Sherlock take the gloves off, and then watched them fall on the floor with an internal grimace. He'd have to clean that up later. John turned his gaze back to Sherlock, though, watching him slick himself up. The slave felt a bit nervous at the thought of letting Sherlock inside of him, but the rubbing around his entrance had him relaxing again. John looked up into his Masters eyes, staring at him for a minute, but then he nodded. "Yes. Please, take me."

Sherlock entered the moment he heard the word 'yes' leave John's lips. He gave a moan as he slid in all the way. He started off at a slow pace, like he had with his finger. He would build up to a faster pace in bit but right now he wanted to savor the moment of taking his slave for the first time and also ease John into it. “If you wrap your legs around below my shoulders, it will give us a better angle.” He then bent down to begin marking his slave on the chest, sucking and biting at the skin. Moans escaped his lips from time to time, as he took his time for the moment.

John felt a vague sense of worry as he felt Sherlock enter him. The slight worry that this would turn out to be harmful, like it always had. But John had to trust his Master, so he did as Sherlock said and slid his legs up, feeling his arse clench around the intrusion. He groaned at how full he felt, lifting his arms to Sherlock's back. If he hadn't have just come, he'd be getting hard fast enough to make his head spin. The first bites on his chest had him gasping, and then moaning as he was marked further. "Oh, God, Sir..." John moaned, caught between the desire to tilt his head back or watch his Master.

Sherlock smiled as he heard John's words. His lips worked their way up to his slave's shoulders and then the neck. He didn't care that he was marking above the neckline of a shirt. Everyone in the manor would know he had taken John by now. His slave was a bit noisy but he rather liked that. It let everyone know that John was his. His pace began to increase gradually, some grunts coming out with his moans from the new effort and exertion of the new-found rhythm.

With Sherlock making his way up his neck, John tilted his head back to give him more room and rocking his hips into the thrusts. He was actually enjoying this, to a bit of his surprise. He didn't care that his Master was leaving marks on his neck so long as he kept touching him. When the pace increased John did his best to push back, whimpering with the power behind the thrusts. He put one hand on the base of his Master's neck, nails digging in like claws as he tightened the grip of his legs as best as he could as well as squeezing around his master some.

“God yes,” Sherlock breathed out against the skin on John's neck when he felt the nails in his neck. “Scratch me,” he murmured as he began moving from his slave's neck and up to the ear where he began to lick and nibble. He kept the thrusts moderate, not wanting to do fast and hard the first time with John although the desire was there. It was his preferred way to use a slave but everything was different with John and he was willing to wait a few more shaggings before he began ramming his slave into the mattress.

John shuddered at the breath on his neck and the words in his ears. He brought his other hand up, digging into Sherlock's neck on the other side as well. There was a slight pain from his groin as he felt the blood pooling, trying to give him another erection from the pleasure he felt. John gave a high-pitched whine and dug his nails down Sherlock's neck and back, his legs slipping until they were around Sherlock's waist and then _oh God_ , his prostate was being hit. A bit painful or not, he grew hard again and began to pant his master's name. "I…I can't, Sh…Sher…I'm…you're…more, please, Sher, I'm going to…you're going to make me come ag-again." John moaned, sobbing a bit at the strength of both his feelings for his Master and how he was feeling in the moment.

Sherlock gave a growl of excitement from the feeling of the nails in his skin. He smirked against John's ears, finding it incredible and extremely exciting he was able to give his slave another erection so soon. It inflated his already rather large sized ego. “Good John, come for me again. Show me just how much you love me being inside of you,” he murmured directly into the ear he was nibbling on lightly. John's words made him want to just start ramming in but he found self-control and continued the same moderate pace he had worked up to.

John shook his head slightly, opening his eyes to look at the ceiling and try to take in air. The blood in his cheeks and erection was making him lose some in his head, making him feel fuzzy. He scraped out with his nails, baring his teeth and groaning as he shook gently around Sherlock. The head of the other man's cock was nailing his prostate, and John couldn't reach down a hand and help get himself off. The sound of the sentence reached his ears before the words, and he tightened his entire body when they registered. "Love…love you…inside…everywhere…" He grumbled a little as he squeezed his legs, trying to get a bit more. Within a few minutes he was coming again, screaming Sherlock's name and attempting to muffle the sound in his Master's shoulder, biting down on the muscle as his hips jerked.

Sherlock pulled back and watched John with fascination, having never seen anyone get an erection so soon after getting off. Not even in his many experiments. “Perfect,” he purred into his slave's ear when he leaned back down, after the grumbled words. He felt the hot mess and smirked in satisfaction but was rather surprised by the sudden bite on his shoulder. God, why was that such a turn on? John was really making it hard for him to maintain control. Between the scratching and biting, he ended up getting lost in the haze of arousal. He couldn't help it as his pace got hard and fast, that caused him to grunt from the exertion though moans still escaped his lips. He didn't last much longer after a few hard thrusts and he came with a load moan, but he didn't bother to try and stifle it at all. He pulled out with a small groan and collapsed next to John, panting.

John tilted his hips up as Sherlock began to slam into him, grunting a little at the force with which he was rocked, but managed to keep himself under control while Sherlock came. He squeezed around his Master as he pulled out, knowing there was going to be a mess if he didn't. When Sherlock laid down, John turned to bury his sweaty face in the other man's equally sweaty chest. He was fighting the instinct to get up and leave, clean himself and then go snap at another slave. He didn't want to get up, yet. He liked laying with Sherlock and he was fairly certain that his Master didn't mind him laying here. When he was breathing regularly and not actively fighting his body's urge to get up and leave John peered up at Sherlock and smiled. "That was…wonderful, Sir." He wished he was free so he could call the other by his name more than just when he came.

Sherlock curled into John, not caring about the sweat and mess on and around them. He could bathe later but right now he wanted to be next to his slave. He smiled at was said. “Good. I quite enjoyed it myself.” He tilted his head up to give John a quick kiss on the lips. “Thank you for agreeing. I look forward to our next sexual endeavors.” He smirked a little at that as he relaxed into his slave once more. He was glad John hadn't been put off by the sudden force at the end there, or if his slave had been then he was doing a very good job of not showing it.

John put his arms around his Master, feeling himself relax the longer they laid together. He tried to remain clenched in the rear, but it was difficult to relax everything except his arse. "I do as well, Sir." John licked his lips after the kiss, watching his Master's face. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Sir. I would have no problem doing it again." He'd never thought he'd be offering his body up again, but here he was. He wrapped a leg around his Master and hummed a moment. He was tired now, but didn't want to sleep.

Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes as he enjoyed the closeness with John. He shifted a little so his head came to rest on his slave's shoulder, like it did when he slept at night. He found he quite liked resting his head there, even if he wasn't quite ready to sleep yet. Dinner needed to be eaten still. Bathing and the sheets changed...again. He could order John around later, at the moment he was content to just stay curled into his slave.

John was quite happy to remain where he was, curled up against Sherlock as though they had no other worry in the world. He held the other man tighter for a moment as thoughts from the night before crept into his mind. He tentatively opened his mouth, suddenly nervous. "Sir I…I meant what I said…I believe I am…falling for you…" He ran a hand through Sherlock's hair and gently over the scratches. "Did…did you mean it when you said you didn't care what people thought about you anymore?" He asked softly, burying his face in Sherlock's curls nervously.

Sherlock enjoyed the silence and comfort he was in but he cracked open an eye when he heard John speak. He was quiet for moment, eyes opening fully now, as he lifted a hand to run through his slave's hair. He had never heard of a slave falling for a Master before and he was pondering that as well as the question. “Yes, I did. Mycroft won't like it though, most likely. The Holmes have a…certain reputation to maintain but I'm just not that invested in it. I don't even really like being in the business or owning slaves to be honest. It’s all I've known my whole life though. I work the family business because otherwise I wouldn't have my brother's contacts he is using to find our parents killer. Maybe when that is all over, I'll leave this life and sell off my share of the operation and go off and have wonderful adventures. I could use a good man by my side. There are too many laws in place against slaves for me to be able to grant you freedom but perhaps you could come with me and continue to be my personal slave.”

John nodded as Sherlock spoke, listening closely. He didn't miss that his Master was quiet on the subject of his affections, but John wasn't surprised. He'd never heard of it happening before, and there really wasn't anything to help them deal with it. "Knowing one thing your entire life can't be fun. I like your consulting detective idea, Sir. And I…I do want to help you when you find your parents killers." John bit his lip and felt Sherlock's come leaking out of him slickly. "You know I'll go anywhere with you, Sir. And if…if it was just you and me, would I be able to use your name?" John asked quietly. He wanted to be given some freedom, if only between them, but he couldn't say he'd be surprised if his Master denied him.

Sherlock continued to run his hand through John's hair lightly as he listened quietly and once more contemplated in silence before giving an answer. He had said no to this once already but...he did like hearing his name on his slave's lips. “When it is just us. If you use it once anytime anyone else is around though, consider the privilege revoked John.” He lifted his head so he could give his slave another quick kiss on the lips before settling back down on the good shoulder.

John let himself just enjoy sitting with his Master while he waited for the decision. He smiled at the answer, and kissed Sherlock in return. "Until it is just you and I, Sir, I think I will continue calling you Sir. I hope we find the people who killed your parents soon, Sir." He wanted to be on his own with his Master. Something was niggling at his brain again, something about Victor and the way he had phrased his words, but he was too blissed out to pay attention. He continued to snuggle until there was a knock on the door.

"Lock, dear? Your brother is here, he wants to speak with you. Best get yourselves decent and come on out of there." Mrs. Hudson called through the door.

John moaned unhappily. He didn't want to get up or release his Master.

Sherlock groaned as well and slowly disentangled himself from John. He washed up hastily and then put on new, crisp clothes. “Clean up the room and of course change the sheets. I will probably be dining with my brother tonight when it is time for dinner. Until then, we will be in the den. I do not want us interrupted by anyone while we talk.” He moved to give his slave one last quick kiss before he disappeared from his chambers and went to greet his stupid, annoying older brother. “Mycroft,” he muttered the address which was met by a smirk from his brother. He rolled his eyes and led them to the den.

“You've caused quite the problem, brother mine.” Mycroft leaned on his umbrella as he scrutinized his younger brother. “Enjoying your new pet, I see.”

Sherlock scowled. “John _isn't_ a pet.” He settled into his chair grumbling. “Victor is a prat.”

“That may be, but he is dangerous Sherlock. More so than you realize.”

That caught his attention and Sherlock raised his eyebrows. “There is something you aren't telling me. Secrets like usual.”

“It is for your own good. Just be careful around him.”

“What, you think Victor would be dumb enough to make a move against the Holmes in any serious capacity?"

There was the briefest of pauses. “Of course, he wouldn't.”

Sherlock got out of his chair with startling speed and slammed his brother into a wall. “What was that pause. Has he done something already?” Things began clicking in place slowly and his eyes narrowed. “You bastard! How long have you known?” He was yelling now, not caring who heard.

Mycroft sighed. There was no point in lying now. “If you would be kind enough to let me go, we can talk like the civilized people like we are. This ridiculous emotional outburst is exactly why I didn't say anything to begin with. Come, have scotch with me and we will talk...without all this unnecessary yelling.” He gave his younger brother a patronizing smile as he was reluctantly let go.

John nodded as he watched and listened to his Master. He really would remember to change the sheets this time, given as he was in the room right now. He watched his Master walk out after the kiss, smiling a bit stupidly. He was still leaking, and he squeezed his cheeks as he made his way to the bathroom. He washed himself quickly, rinsing out his rear quickly and dressing himself. He bundled up their clothes and the bedding, taking it down to the washroom and beginning to do it himself. While they were drying, John headed back up to the room to clean a bit more. He heard his Master yelling and felt the urge to run to him but knew better than to disobey a direct order and he quickly walked past. John finished cleaning the room and then walked out to the stables. Dimmock greeted him with a wicked grin.

"Heard you and the Master, Johnny. He's that good in bed, eh?" He asked with a chuckle, elbowing John. The slave flushed and glared at his friend.

"That's none of your business, I think. Where's Raz?" He questioned instead, asking for his horse.

"Oh, your beast. He's out with Borak and Boraz. They've been getting along fairly well, thought it best to keep the mates together." Dimmock explained.

John nodded, glad to see his horse getting along well with the other two. He wasn't straining himself or his incisions, and he was healing well. "Thanks, Dimmock. He's looking good."

"You're one of us now Johnny, even if the Master does like you most. Well, you and Hudders. But still, you've made it marginally better for us here so far." They stood for a while, just watching the horses, until the dinner bell rang and they walked into the dining hall together.

Sherlock was literally shaking with rage. Victor. Oh, that bastard but he wasn't clever enough to do this alone. Someone had to help him. He probably hired people to do it for him. Victor would never get his hands dirty. How could he have been so stupid and think that man had ever been a friend in his time in need? He took the scotch his brother offered him. He sipped it slowly, ignoring anything Mycroft might have been saying to him. He was far too focused on his thoughts. The dinner bell going off shook him from them and he moved toward the door but stumbled to the ground. He blinked up at his brother, who was smirking down on him. He should have known Mycroft would drug him. His eyes closed and he was pulled into a drug induced sleep.

Mycroft needed his brother to calm down so he slipped a very strong sedative into the scotch before giving it to Sherlock. Leave it to his little brother to let sentiment get in the way. He couldn't have that, now could he? The idiot might try and run off in the middle of the night and confront Victor. He watched Sherlock carefully as his brother pass out. He opened the door. “John, your Master needs you. He has had too much to drink and passed out.” He shook his head sadly, as if upset about the whole ordeal. He stepped over Sherlock and moved to the dining room. “I will take charge while your Master is incapacitated,” he announced to the slaves as he began to eat the food in front of him.

He had just about begun to eat when Mycroft called him in. John kept the grimace off his face but felt the discrete pat on the back of sympathy from Dimmock.

Gregson tugged the back of his shirt and he pretended to trip as the older man leaned over. "The Master's hardly ever had too much to drink before, Johnny. Be careful."

"Sorry Sir. My foot fell asleep and I lost my balance." The other slaves looked up at Mycroft and waited to be allowed to eat. Sherlock always let them dig straight in, but this was not Sherlock. When he began to eat the slaves did as well.

John picked Sherlock up from where he was on the floor, carrying him carefully on his right side. Even though it strained the left and he hissed every few steps in pain. It took him a while to get Sherlock back to their room and on the bed but he managed it. His shoulder flamed in pain, though, and he put a blanket on Sherlock and checked his breath--Gregson was right, only a hint of alcohol, not enough to knock him out, damn Mycroft--before heading back downstairs. Mrs. Hudson was in the kitchen, and John requested more of her soothers.

"Oh yes of course dear. Gregory needs some as well." She smiled at him and Greg nodded.

"Thanks Mrs. H." The silver haired man said.

"Anything for my boys, you know that."

Mycroft stared at John from time to time as he ate. He wasn't sure what Sherlock saw in him. It was just another slave in his opinion and certainly nothing compared to his Gregory. He had brought his personal slave with him of course, he never left home without Greg. Especially when he came to the manor. He didn't trust any of the slaves here to do anything for him really.

John, Greg, and Mrs. Hudson ate together. They kept away from the other slaves and chatted between themselves.

"Why are you and Mr. Holmes here?" John asked, taking a bite of his food and looking at Greg.

"My Master had some information to give to his brother. I go everywhere with him." Greg gave a shrug.

John nodded. He did the same with Sherlock. When dinner was over one of the slaves came over, a tall blond who looked bored.

"You two are to go check on the horses." He looked to Mrs. Hudson. "And you are supposed to go check on the laundry left outside." The three stared at him a minute.

"By whose orders?" Greg asked, narrowing his eyes.

The slave shrugged. "Dunno, that's what I was told."

Greg narrowed his eyes further. "I'm going to go ask my Master." He watched as the dinner plates were removed. He walked over to Mycroft, head low.

"Sir, what are John, Mrs. Hudson and I to do? We were told to check the horses and laundry. Is that correct?"

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. He hadn't given any such orders but he supposed it needed to be done. “That is fine I suppose. Just be quick about it. I will be in the study, looking over some of the books my brother has been keeping. I don't want to be disturbed. Make sure this lot stays busy here. Sherlock won't be awake until tomorrow morning.” His younger brother would be annoyed with him but it was better than Sherlock running off halfcocked like some kind of idiot.

"Yes Sir. I had our room set up earlier. I will meet you in the study when I am done." He gave a short bow and left. "My Master said to do just that, but be quick about it." He nodded. The slave gave a smile, almost a smirk John thought, and turned to leave. He and Greg exited the house, and Mrs. Hudson wasn't far behind them. Dimmock watched them leave, confused because he'd never seen the slave before, but assumed he'd come with the other Holmes.  
  
Outside, John looked at Greg.

"So…what is your relationship with…uh, Mr. Holmes?" He asked, not wanting to say the other Master's name.

"He's…my owner." Greg gave another shrug. "He has been since we were children. I've always belonged to him."

"Huh…you know, I thought most people sold their first slave." They walked into the stable. It was eerily quiet, but he figured it was because the horses were eating and it was dark.

"They do," Greg said, matching another voice that came from behind them.

John turned; he knew that voice. Before either of them could make a sound, they were knocked on the back of their heads. Two slaves dragged them off, while the Master stood grinning.

"Two down, one to go…”  
  
Mrs. Hudson wasn't hard to take captive. Her drink had been laced with a sleeping draft, much like Sherlock's had. She had been considered too fragile for the rough taking that John and Greg had received. Victor and Jim met up with the three back at Victor's manor, quietly smiling. They chained them up in a dungeon, and went to bed as though it were an average night.

Mycroft frowned in thought when Gregory didn't return in a timely fashion. His slave was always prompt. He got up and left the den, looking around the manor. A slave came and told him a few of his brother's slaves were missing including his own. He narrowed his eyes and dismissed the slave with a curt nod. Missing? When he realized they were gone from the manor grounds he knew something was wrong. Gregory would never just leave like that, not without permission and even then. This seemed like something Victor would do. Retaliation for Sherlock banishing him from the manor. He sighed, got a bucket of water, went upstairs and threw it on his brother. When Sherlock woke with a start he stared at his brother. “Sherlock, we have a problem.”

When John woke up he was silent. It wasn't the first time he'd been knocked out in such a way, and honestly doubted it'd be the last. Greg was already awake and cradling Mrs. Hudson, who looked pale and was still asleep. He opened his eyes more and turned them to the other two. It took a minute for Greg to realize he was awake.

"Glad to see you're still alive. I thought you might have died but Mrs. Hudson was a greater concern." He wasn't remorseful and John couldn't blame him. Greg barely knew him, but he'd known Mrs. Hudson almost all his life.

"Can't believe we bloody fell for that." He rubbed his head and winced.

Greg nodded slowly. "Neither can I. I've heard some people moving in and out and around our…room. I think they're planning on moving us soon. My Master and Sherlock aren't idiots. It'll be obvious who took us, they'll need someplace better."

He knew where they'd be taken, within a matter of hours if not minutes. They'd go to Jim's. His house of horror and disgust. Victor had taken John there a couple times.

"Christ," Greg murmured, "two days."

John looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Until the anniversary of their parent’s murders."

John remembered Victor's words and gripping hand on his shoulder. "Oh, fuck." He breathed as the door opened.  
  
Dimmock was staring at the stable. He'd come in to check on John and Greg because of how long they were taking. And if they were getting up to anything he was going to give them a lecture. Instead there was blood on the straw floor and some of it had been dragged. Without hesitation, Dimmock turned and ran for the house. He ran upstairs and knocked on the open door. When the Masters turned to look at him he flushed. "I apologize for interrupting you, Sirs, but I think you need to see something."

Sherlock was still a little out of it from the drug and being rudely awaken. He was wet all over and he glared at his brother. “Bastard,” he muttered. He glanced over at the door when it opened suddenly. He groaned, still unsure what the hell was going on. He did remember the conversation in the den with Mycroft though. He got up suddenly but regretted it and became dizzy and nausea, the effects of the drugs still getting to him.

Mycroft eyed the rude slave. “Sherlock just stay here. Get yourself cleaned up. Show me boy,” he muttered and moved to follow his brother's slave.

Dimmock glanced at his Master but nodded, turning and hurrying out of the room. He led Mycroft to the stable and showed him the blood and drag marks. "It was here, Sir. They grabbed Greg and John and dragged 'em out. I checked out back real fast but there weren't any tracks, none I could see 'least. Dunno who it was, but they got ’em and really sneakily too. There weren't any noises." He hoped his new friend was alright. He bit his lip, and looked up at Mycroft though not at his face. "Sir, me and John had an…incident on our way back home yesterday morning…”  
  
Jim was standing outside the doorway and grinning widely. "Johnny boy! You've come back to me!"

John was silent, though he clenched his hands into fists and narrowed his eyes. "I did no such thing you son of a bitch." He growled, but the sound hurt his head and Jim tutted at him.

"Always such a bad boy, Johnny. You should try to be more grateful. We rescued you, you know. Now we're gonna take you someplace safe."

John snorted and didn't answer. Anger flared in Jim's eyes and he smiled. "You'd best be a good boy on our trip home. Bad dogs don't get any treats." He sang, and walked out a little ways. Three slaves came in and put collars on them, John and Greg fighting it as best they could. But they were weak and injured and it was long before they were all but dragged out, Mrs. Hudson being carried. They were shoved into a storage carriage and a number of boxes piled behind them, blocking the view of anybody who opened the door. Within half an hour they were on the road again, with no way of getting out.

Sherlock dried off and got on new clothes. He was in foul mood. A mixture of his stupid brother and that bastard Victor. He grumbled as he left his room, scowling at his slaves. No one bothered him. They knew to stay away when he wasn't in a good mood. He wasn't sure where Mycroft had disappeared to though.

 Mycroft stared at hard at the slave. “What? Tell me now,” he demanded. He got close to the slave, eyes narrowed. “Well come on boy, spit out. I don't have all day!”

 "He told us not to tell. We didn't want to, we didn't think it was anything but…Victor found us. When we were almost home. Said the anniversary of your parent’s deaths was coming up and how sad it would be if Master's two favorite slaves died on the day. We didn't think it was anything, or at least anything serious, we thought he was bluffing and John didn't want Master to get more upset…and then it just kinda slipped our minds because we had to get back to work but I think Victor was serious and took John and Greg."

“You idiots! You should have said something sooner!” Mycroft shoved at the slave roughly before leaving stables. He scowled and saw Sherlock coming, also not a in a good mood. “Victor has them. Come on. They won't be dumb enough to go to his manor though. I have a good idea of where they will be based of the intelligence I have gathered. Victor is frequently seen with James Moriarty, someone even worse than Victor. This ends tonight.” He picked up a rifle and checked it. His brother was finally shaking off the drug and grabbed a couple pistols. He was a bit surprised to see Sherlock mount the wilder horse, but it was the fastest in one in the stables easy. The idiot was going to try and leave him behind. “You,” he pointed at the slave that shown them the stables. “Keep up with me if you want to see your Master again.” Sherlock was already gone, heading towards Victor at a mad dash despite what he had told his brother just moments ago. It wouldn't take long to catch up so he could finally lead them to where they needed to go.

"I'm sorry!" Dimmock cowered when Mycroft shoved him, skittering away like the horses he worked with. He followed the man forlornly, realizing that Mrs. Hudson was not in the manor either. He followed Mycroft closely, watching his Master mount his horse like a mad man. He saddled the speedy messenger pony he used quickly and efficiently, taking off after Mycroft as soon as the other man did. He wanted to get to John and be sure his friend was alright. Tears pricked his eyes when he thought that, for sure, he would be sold the next day. Still, he at least had to make sure John was alright. He kept low on the horse as they rode at breakneck speed, praying they weren't too late.

Sherlock was in a blind blood raged anger. He didn't even pay that much attention to whatever Mycroft had said. All that mattered was getting John back. Mrs. Hudson as well, but he felt a panic over his prized slave like he had never felt before. It didn’t take him long to get to Victor's with the speed he had urged his horse to go. He was going to pay for it later, riding bareback but he couldn't worry about that now. Damn. The manor was quiet. They weren't here! Wait. Hadn't his brother mentioned something about them going somewhere else. He scowled and waited impatiently for Mycroft and Dimmock to catch up, a little surprised the slave was there. He glared at his brother and then followed after him, trying not to get too far ahead since he wasn't entirely sure where they were going.

Mycroft didn't feel the need to run the horses into the ground from top speed, but he didn't take his time either. Time was important right now. Victor wouldn't get away with this again. He was angry too but he contained it much better than his younger brother. It didn't take much time to catch up with Sherlock and he ignored the glare as he smirked smugly and took the lead.

Victor had known, or at least assumed, that Sherlock would come after then. He led another wagon off at a slower pace than Jim had the others. He was the one rushing, Victor was the decoy to look like he was. He didn't want to run his horses until he heard the pair, wanting to make an allusion as though he'd thought he'd get away with it. He wasn't that stupid, honestly, but with both of the Holmes' upset he had a greater chance of giving Jim more time to a secret estate he lived on. As he heard the three free horses come up behind him, still a speck in the distance, he slapped the reins to drive the horses forward. The slaves of his own in the back of this carriage slid to the back and were silent, knowing better than to make noise. He had another next to him as though it was Jim leading him. The horses ran hard, the challenge of out running the ones behind them driving them more than their master could. Victor knew he couldn't, but that was part of the fun.

The moment Sherlock saw the wagon, he urged the horse he was riding as fast as it could manage. He ignored Mycroft yelling at him to stop. John. He had to get his slave back safe. He had needed to kill the bastard for having his parents killed. His mother. Damn it. Tears were blurring his vision and he blinked his eyes rapidly before they could fall.

This was not the right way to Jim's. Mycroft couldn't just leave Sherlock alone though. Losing his younger brother would break his heart, even if it wasn't something he had ever admitted out loud. He sighed and followed Sherlock's trail of dust. He glanced over to the slave with him. “Careful, this is likely an ambush of some sort. Know how to use a gun boy?”

"Y-yes sir. Point, aim, shoot." He'd been an officer before he'd fallen into slavery. He watched his Master ride off ahead, holding onto his pony as it surged forward to keep up with the larger horses. It had almost no problems managing the feat, and Dimmock tried to hold it steady.  
  
Victor turned to see Sherlock quickly gaining ground and grinned. "Hello love! Looking for something? A pet perhaps?" He called back, laughing and snapped the reins again. Already the horses were plunging ahead and lathering, their ears pinned to their heads as Victor drove them harder and harder, trying to gain ground in vain.

Sherlock wasted no time on small talk with Victor and merely glared with hatred at the other man. When he got close enough to the wagon, he came up alongside it and withdrew a pistol. He was barely hanging on with one hand to the horse with how fast it was going but he didn't care. He took aim for the horses drawing the carriage. They were a much bigger and easier target to hit, despite not being able to shoot straight. He fired a shot, hoping to bring one of the horses down and bring the carriage to an unceremonious stop and throw Victor off balance.

Mycroft groaned and rolled his eyes as he heard the gunshot. “Git,” he muttered to himself. “Slow down,” he commanded of the slave with him and did the same. If his brother had hit a horse, he didn't want to crash into the carriage when it stopped abruptly.

He missed and hit the ground but it was enough. The horses pulled to a stop, rearing as best they could to avoid another. Victor tried to hang onto the carriage, the reins, and anything he could including his slave but he fell. The man hit the ground and winced as he heard a crack. That was his arm, and possibly a rib as well. He looked up at Sherlock, still smiling. "What's the matter love? Did your pet run away?" He asked with a chuckle. "Terrible thing, especially this time of year…but you can never trust slaves. Wiley and will run away at any chance."

Dimmock heard the last bit about slaves and bit his lip. He'd never leave Master Holmes. The man was a giant arse, a prat, and a child but he treated them fairly for the most part. He made sure they were warm and had a bed and food and clothing. He didn't flog them unless it was necessary. Only problematic slaves who weren't happy unless they had something to really complain about or were new to the life took the idiotic attempt to run. Dimmock wouldn't, and neither would John. Greg had known the elder Master Holmes his whole life. No way he would leave, and Mrs. Hudson was too old…as they pulled up behind Sherlock, Dimmock waited for the signal to shoot, or whatever the elder Master Holmes would have him do.

Sherlock didn't care that he missed. He still got the desired result he wanted. He jumped from his still moving horse towards Victor. He grunted from the impact and with any luck that bastard would cushion his fall. He just wanted to punch the man to death, literally. Make him stop talking. Make him die. Beat him to a bloody pulp.

Mycroft gave a growl as he pulled his horse to stop. He couldn't get a clean shot off with Sherlock so close to Victor. He dismounted and signaled with his head for the slave with him to cover him as he went to check the back of the carriage. Slaves. But not the ones they were looking for. Damn it. “If you don't want to get shot, don't move.” He glared at the slaves but found it unlikely any of the slaves Victor owned would be loyal or dumb enough to try and help their Master.

Victor felt Sherlock land on top of him and winced. Well, there went a couple fractured ribs. He wrapped his good arm around Sherlock tightly, glad that they had rolled so Sherlock was on top of him. "That eager to come back to me?" He asked with a grin. It hurt to move his broken arm but it wasn't too bad because it still held its shape. He stroked Sherlock's side with it and chuckled. "I told you love. You and I could be great together."  
  
Dimmock did as the elder Master Holmes told him to, and split his sight between hid Master and the slaves. Nome of them looked eager to try and help their Master. Instead they all clambered to the back of the carriage, keeping away from each other but also the way their Master might, with the barest of luck, drag them out. The other slave was hiding under the driving seat, watching the proceedings with wide eyes, and the horses were moving though in opposite directions so they never actually went anywhere.

Sherlock glared down at Victor. It was hard to swing when he was being held. He decided to press into the kidney again with his knee since he was still on top. It was likely still tender from the day before. He hoped the bastard had pissed blood because of him.  
  
Mycroft didn't pay much attention to the slaves but he did keep the shot gun pointed at them. He was watching Sherlock and Victor fight. "Keep an eye on them," he told his brothers slave and then moved over to the fighting men. He wasn't going to let Sherlock get all the fun. He didn't get his hands dirty but he was more than willing to make an exception right now. He pressed the muzzle of the gun to his head. "Stop moving."

Victor quit moving though the smile didn't fade. He had only had minor hopes of truly beating the Holmes brothers. Their determination was beat only by their generally cold shells. He released his arms, once again having trouble breathing. Sherlock's knee was directly on top of the bruise from two nights prior. He rolled his eyes up to look at Mycroft. "Oh no, older brother has come to protect baby brother again. For how long, though? You can't always protect him. You let everybody get close to him. Maybe you should get him under control." He smiled widely through his pain. "Your father tried to get your mother under protection. He loved her more than you knew. But she was just like you. Nothing could stop her, even when she knew it would hurt…sound like somebody we know?" He smiled up at Sherlock and then Mycroft. Jim would be almost home by now.

Sherlock glared up at his brother for interrupting but his attention quickly returned to Victor. He was already very angry and all he could see was red now, lost in a blind haze of murderous intent. “You bastard. I am going to kill you,” he hissed at the man below him. He rammed his knee into the wound harder and put his hands around the throat and began to squeeze as hard as he could. 

Mycroft sighed, thinking Victor was getting off far too easy but they needed to hurry up and finish this murderous arse off so they could go after Moriarty, who would be much trickier to beat than the idiot on the ground dying. He lifted the gun and went back to the slaves. “If you don't want me to hunt you down and kill you, I recommend you stay here. You are owned by the Holmes brothers now.” They would likely sell them all off, as he didn't need any more slaves. He was bit over staffed as it was but it kept his manor clean and he doubted Sherlock would want slaves of Victor's anyway.

Victor gagged and put his hands on Sherlock's, weakly attempting to pull them off. He met the other man's eyes, attempting to breath, and then smiled. "He's going to die just like she did, love." He grunted out, voice raspy and obviously choked. "Once in the gut, and then her lungs. Maybe…he'll have some fun with your pet before he kills him." Victor's eyes slid over to Mycroft. "All three…of them…" he managed to say, smirking, and then went limp. He was only unconscious yet, though if Sherlock continued holding his throat he would be dead soon.  
  
Dimmock watched, feeling a bit sick. If he had disagreed with John and convinced him to tell their Master early this wouldn't have happened. John and Mrs. Hudson would be safe, and a freeman wouldn't be dead. He held his breath against hyperventilating and watched the slaves. Not a one moved, except for the one in the driver's seat. He sat up shakily and made an attempt to calm the horses, slowly stepping down and making sure to keep his hands up as he walked hesitantly over to make sure they didn't bolt.

Sherlock didn't even notice when Victor stopped moving. He kept choking quite some time after that. Finally, the blood lust left him and he found himself panting from exertion. John. He had to save John now. He stood up slowly and looked over to Mycroft, who gave him a distasteful look and shake of his head. He rolled his eyes. “Dimmock, take this lot back to the manor. None of them are to leave, have everyone guard them in shifts as needed. Shoot to kill if they run.” He turned to look at the slave with horses. “You, in the back with the others.” He had finally calmed down some, feeling only slightly better now that the Victor was dead. He mounted his horse and followed after his brother who was telling him not to run off like an idiot when they reached Jim's. He made a noncommittal noise but nodded his head fractionally.


	16. Chapter 16

The man scrambled into the back quickly, not wanting to argue. He'd heard of the fearsome Holmes', and didn't want to risk their wrath. Dimmock got off his horse and shut the door, tying the pony to the side and looking at his master.

"Master I...I'm sorry. I should have told you but John didn't want to worry you and I agreed... this is my fault, Sir." He said, ducking his head a moment before climbing onto the carriage. It took a bit of work to get them to turn but he managed. He looked after his master and silently wished him luck as be drove the sweaty horses off.  
  
John and the other two had reached Jim's manor by now. Mrs. Hudson was awake, but still fairly under the drug. John watched as the boxes were moved, and bit the first hand he saw. There was a swear, and then the rest of the boxes were quickly removed. Jim grabbed his leash and rigged him out, throwing the man to the ground. Two of his foremen took out Greg and Mrs. Hudson.

"Put them in our guest chambers." He growled, "this bad pup'll be along in a minute. I think he needs a choker."

The idea of being in an even worse collar frightened John but he squashed the fear. Jim dragged him into the house, choking him as often as he could, and forced John onto one of the beds.

"You're a bad boy, Johnny." He growled, tying John's arms and legs. "I was hoping you'd misbehave. Such a strong will. I look forward to breaking you."

"My master will come for me." He bit back as a tighter collar was slipped over his head.

"Oh yes he will. But when he does you won't be here. Or, you will. Your body, at least." Jim giggled and dragged John, with his new choking collar, into a room with hideous machines with spikes and levers. He hooked the collar up to a machine, just a bit taller than John, and turned it on. It began to slowly tug the collar back, until John had just enough room to breath but only by straining to stand on his toes.

"Behave, pet. It'll tighten just a little every ten minutes. Better hope your beloved master gets here soon. Now I need to go take care of the other two." He seemed to think a minute and then brightened. "Oh yes! Just like our lovely Shirley's mum!" He grabbed three short spikes and placed them behind John, forcing him to arch his back to avoid them. "Now I'm off, deer. Toodles!" He blew a kiss to John and left, locking the door behind him. The slave bit his lip, trying to keep from crying.

Jim walked over to where the old woman and the other man were kept. "Now, what to do with you two..." he had a bit of time, what with many foremen guarding his manor.  
"Oh, I know! For you, you silver fox, like their father! Cut throat and punctured lungs!" He said cheerfully, hooking him to the bed. There was a box of bloody sand paper and two spikes, the sand paper shook when Jim turned it on. "Let's see... just like the other pet, every ten minutes." He giggled and lowered it to just above Greg's chest. "You two are better pets than him, I'm sure." He murmured, and turned to the sniveling Mrs. Hudson.

"As for you..." he eyed her and grunted. "Whipping. Sebby," he called and the blonde slave who had spoken to Greg and John walked him. "For her, I want ten lashes every ten minutes. Do them how you'd like." He said, and the tall blonde grunted as he forced Mrs. Hudson to turn and hooked her to the wall. Jim leaned up to press a kiss to his lips and giggle one more time before skipping out of the room.

Sherlock followed alongside Mycroft as his older brother explained the plan he had in mind. Stealth and their cleverness was what they would be relying on the most. They couldn't just rush into this place like some sort of idiots. He stopped when his brother did, tying their horses to a tree. He got the things they would need, and Mycroft did the same. They were about a five minute walk away, but they ran until the manor came into view. They began walking and snuck around toward the back, rather than approach from the front door where they would be seen easily. Not a single word was uttered between them. They didn't need to. Body language and hand motions were enough. Sometimes even a simple glance. They made it past the guards in the back easily enough, by throwing rocks and such one direction and heading the other when their backs were turned. He nicked some keys by a passing guard with ease and got in through a side door, closing it behind them quietly by holding the handle down and letting it up slowly so it would latch. He even locked in place just in case. There were a lot of voices. He kept track of them, just to know when to duck behind something or hide but for the most part he was straining to hear one of his slave's voice, even his brothers.

Ten minutes and some had passed before they were in. Sebastian stood up, sighing. He grabbed the whip. and looked at the older woman. "I'm sorry for this. Really, I am. You seem like a nice woman. But orders are orders, and I'd rather not have to be punished for not following them today." He stated, before grabbing a knife to open up the back of her gown with.

"No!" Greg shouted, despite the sandpaper beginning to rub on the skin of his throat. "For gods sakes, don't do it! She's an older woman who does nothing but the food and dishes!"

"No can do. Orders are orders, ten lashes every ten minutes, and we're approaching the second ten." Sebastian shrugged and stepped back. "Sorry ma'am, but there's a reason folk as old as you don't last long here."

He leaned forward with the motion of the whip, and watched it cut into her back. Mrs. Hudson cried out, and didn't bother to lower her voice for any of the other nine. She sobbed at the pain, having never been whipped before. She was always a good slave and kind, never doing anything to get herself in trouble except for some dancing in her youth. Greg would have shouted more but the sandpaper was beginning to take the skin off his throat and making it bloody quickly.  
  
John was having issues now, trying to breath. The collar was moving back steadily, and Jim had come back in after a few minutes. He watched John struggle for a while, and then smiled widely.

"You don't look like you're having enough fun yet." He said, walking forward. He placed his hands on John's hips and looked into his eyes. "Let's make this even better, yeah?" He asked with a grin, grabbing a sharp looking instrument with a blunt ending. The psychopath pulled the slave's trousers down, and leaned around behind him to press it in. John hissed--it was bigger than it looked and painful, and he was careful not to move and scratch anything inside of him.

"Much better, darling! Much more fun!" Jim cheered, watching John struggle to breath and not stab himself.

The sounds of Mrs. Hudson's screams reached him first. That anger was quickly coming back. Mycroft touched his shoulder and shook his head. Sherlock pushed the anger down so he wouldn't lose control like he had with Victor. He gave his brother a small nod and then moved towards the screams, ducking and weaving. They avoided as many as slaves as possible. Dropping bodies would give them away so it was best to just move stealthily. The only thing they had going for them at the moment was the element of surprise. He did grab a small pillow from a couch though, it would make for a good one time silencer should he need it. It took more time than he would like but at least the screaming had stopped. He hoped that was good anyways. He tried the door but it was locked. He made quick and silent work of it though. This was not the first door he had picked open before and it was easy since he had brought the tools he would need. He opened the door. He tilted his head to his brother's slave and he moved over to Mrs. Hudson's tormentor. He pressed the gun into the pillow and pointed it at the back of the head of the blond who had been whipping his surrogate mother. “Stop.” He cocked the gun back so it could be heard. “Drop the whip, kick it behind you and turn around slowly. If you do anything I don't like you get a bullet to the brain.” Through his peripheral he could see Mycroft freeing his slave.

Seb grit his teeth. Jim would not be pleased about this. Not pleased at all. He dropped the whip and turned. Damn, he should have paid better attention to the door. Instead he'd been starting on the next ten and taking his own bit of glee in the pain he saw on the woman. As the man had ordered, Seb kicked the whip away. "Excuse me sir, only following orders." He said demurely.

"Don't listen to him," Greg rasped as he held onto Mycroft's arm to stand. "He's the one who told me and John to go to the stables." The silver haired slave was holding tightly to his master's arm and holding his throat. He couldn't hear the blond yet, and it was worrying him. Jim had looked gleeful as he had left their room, and Greg had no idea what it meant besides nothing good. In front of them, Mrs. Hudson went limp in the chains that held her.  
"Boys," she sobbed quietly, "My boys..."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Bastard,” he spat and then hit the slave in the head with the butt of the gun. The only reason the blond had lived was because the slave didn't have any real choice in following orders. Especially from someone like Jim Moriarty. He didn't know the slave owner personally but he knew the reputation. He unchained Mrs. Hudson from the wall. “You are safe now. Mycroft, get them the hell out of here. I'm going to find John. We can't be carrying them with while we continue to search. It will slow us down and we could get caught.” He could tell his brother was about to argue but he just left the room. He had to find his slave. Hopefully Mycroft would make it out safe with Mrs. Hudson and Greg. Oh yeah, that was his name wasn't it? It figured he would actually remember in a life and death situation. He kept looking, trying doors until he found another locked one. He picked it open and hoped he had chosen correctly, and looked around for John or Jim.

Jim heard some of his slaves speaking outside the door and looked at John as his collar began to choke him even further. Tears were coming to his eyes as his struggled to breath. The psychopath hummed, and tilted his head. Behind John, the spikes on his back were pressing into his skin and making him bleed already.

"I suppose there's not much more I can do for you... I wonder if your beloved master is here. Well, this game has gotten dull." Jim sighed and turned to the machine. He turned it on to a slow, continuous drag back and watched as John began to choke harder and smiled. "There we go. That's much better." He heard the door next to them open and close, and he turned around. "Whoops, darling, looks like it's time for me to make an exit." With a wide smirk, Jim leaned forward. He pressed his lips to John's open, gasping mouth. The blond gagged, would have thrown up if he could breath, but he could only attempt to breath as Jim bit his lip and tongue and gave him the worst kiss he imagined he could ever have. With the last of his strength, John bit Jim. The man growled and slapped John, who slumped to the side as best as he could. Jim escaped out the door and laughed as he sprinted passed the open door where Sherlock was.

Sherlock found his rage returning once more and he tossed the pillow down, not caring about stealth anymore and took a chance shot at Jim as the bastard ran by. He didn't have the luxury or time to see if he hit and he ran forward to help John get down. He lifted his slave up to ease the choking and then took the damned collar off. Since he was already holding onto John, he merely slung the slave over his shoulder. He found it unlikely that John would be able to walk on his own. Now came the tricky part. Getting out alive. He wasn't sure if Jim would try to stop them or not, but he had his gun up and at the ready as he backtracked down the way he had come in with Mycroft. He avoided as many people as he could. Most were just scared slaves who ran away when they saw the gun pointing at them.

John looked up as best as he could at the gunshot. What moron had brought a gun into the house? Christ, the person was an idiot! Which, of course, turned out to be his idiot just as his vision went black. He woke up just a couple seconds later, looking at the floor. His slightly bloodied arse was still bare to the world with his trousers around his ankles, and John hung limply. The spikes had pressed into his ribs and they ached, bloodied as well where the tips had gone through. Jim was gone, Sebastian as well, and John could do nothing but lay over Sherlock's shoulder as he got them out. Tears dripped from his eyes in both gratitude at seeing his master and the pain in his sore arse and back. Nobody tried to stop them until they got out, and then the foremen spotted them. John quit breathing, staring in shock. God, there was no way to get out of this alive. There couldn't be.

Sherlock hadn't had time to make John proper for public. He just wanted to get out as quick as he could. He smirked a little as the foreman spotted them. “Might want to look behind you.” That earned a laugh. He knew it was the oldest trick in the book and didn't expect it work but it did distract the other man as Mycroft smashed the butt of the shotgun into the head. He had procured a carriage for them, after making sure it was in good shape and safe to use. He put John in the back as his brother climbed up front to steer the horses. Mrs. Hudson and the other slave were there as well. None seemed in too good of shape but they were all alive. Barely. They just needed to get back to the manor and they would be safe. For a little while. He had a feeling Moriarty would be back. The sick twat. He was tired, it was almost sunrise now. The adrenaline had worn off and he slumped next to John, falling asleep. He didn't even wake up when the carriage stopped briefly when Mycroft tied the horses to the carriage and then began forward again. His brother shaking him, did wake him. Home. The manor. They had made it. He checked on the slaves, to see how they were fairing before helping them inside. To his surprise, many slaves came running out to assist them.

John was silent as Sherlock took him out, and then put him in the carriage. He was hurt and he was still getting his breath back, but seeing Mrs. Hudson and Greg injured as well brought fresh tears to his eyes. Although he had tears in her eyes, Mrs. Hudson smiled at him.

"All my boys are safe." She said, reaching across and wincing as she put a hand on John's leg. Greg had his sleeve ripped off and tied carefully around his neck. Mrs. Hudson was careful to lean against the back of the carriage so that her dress didn't fall forward. Exhausted, John fell asleep against Sherlock. He didn't even bother pulling his trousers up. When Mycroft stopped to get the horses, John woke. He was bleary-eyed for a moment and he pulled his pants up like he was a drunk before slumping back and falling asleep again. When they reached the manor, Greg was asleep on Mrs. Hudson's lap, Mrs. Hudson was asleep with her head tilted back, and somehow he and Sherlock had managed to get into their regular arrangement with John holding hid master. The slaves were quiet as they came out to assist, not wanting to cause the three any extra pain.

Greg was pale, but then all three were. John looked shattered, and a bit jumpy. And Mrs. Hudson was giving out quiet orders on who to deal with whom. There was to be rolls and water brought to each room, along with fresh bandages and clean water. John wasn't surprised to see everyone following her orders already. Dimmock helped him stand and apologized profusely with tears in his eyes. John shook his head, limping behind his master and Gregson with Dimmock to help him. When they reached the room they shared, the covers were stripped back and both men placed onto their stomachs. Dimmock and Gregson and a girl helped clean them up. In Greg and Mycroft's room, Greg had been deposited onto his cot carefully. There was a young woman working on him, and Mrs. Hudson was being taken care of as well in her own room. John whimpered as the lacerations where the spikes had been embedded into his skin were touched but didn't move, wanting to reach for his master's hand but unsure of he should.

Sherlock felt like he was watching more than helping at this point. He was ready to sleep properly. He muttered his thanks to the slaves around him. He was certain Mycroft would yell at him tomorrow. Luckily at the moment his brother as concerned with his slave and not him. He laid down on the bed once he was sure John was taken care of and patched up he curled into his slave carefully. “Victor is dead, I strangled him to death. I couldn't stop myself. He just kept talking about my mother and how she died. And I just...lost it...” He wasn't remorseful but still killing someone like that had finally caught up to him and now he wasn't sure what to feel about it at the moment. “Jim will probably try to come at us again though.” He sighed at that and moved his hand to John's, giving it gentle reassuring squeeze. “For now you are safe. Sleep, you will have no chores until you are healed properly.” He yawned, curled closer still to his slave and fell back asleep.

John listened quietly, breathing being hid main concern. He was slipping into a pleasant numbness, and he watched his master white placidly from all the herbs he'd been given to ease the pain. Although John did smile at the knowledge that Victor was dead. "I think that if it were me it would have been more violent. Good for you, sir. At least..." John yawned, "at least there is one sadistic bastard who will no longer be able to come after us." He murmured, and squeezed his master's hand in response. John did have to shudder at the thought of seeing Jim again. He had never liked the man and liked him even less now, if that was possible. "Thank you for finding me she." John whispered as he watched Sherlock fall asleep. He had difficulties following him. It wasn't their position, it was the daft that every time John closed his eyes he saw Jim, felt his mouth pressed close again, and he felt sick. It took John a couple hours after Sherlock and watching the sunrise to fall asleep. Even then, his sleep was not peaceful.

Sherlock slept until it was almost dark out as the evening came about. His sleep schedule had been quite irregular since Victor had shown up and his body was trying to make up for that now, especially after being pushed so hard the night before. He was hungry, having missed out on three meals now. The hunger in his stomach was what had roused him in the first place. He groaned quietly and blinked his eyes open slowly, wondering if John would still be at his side.

John was curled up with his master still. He had women up a few minutes before Sherlock and had his eyes shut. He'd woken up seven different times from nightmares, and was still dead tired. Each time the nightmares were worse, but waking up and seeing his master calmed him down. John had closed his eyes and planned on going back to sleep, or at least attempting to, when he heard his master groan. John opened his eyes halfway and, seeing his master awake, he whined quietly for just a second before closing his eyes and squeezing him with the arm still around his shoulder. "I'm so sorry sir... I'm so sorry..." he whispered, tired and hurting and upset by how stupid he'd been.

Sherlock frowned a little. Why was John apologizing? This was all Mycroft's fault! If his older brother had told him about Victor, none of this would have even happened. On top of that, Mycroft had drugged him. Stupid prat. He sighed at his thoughts and carefully snuggled into his slave. "It isn't your fault," he murmured. He didn't want to get out of bed, but he was hungry and he should probably bathe as well. Another sigh and he simply decided to stay in bed with John a little while longer.

"It is though. I... should have told you... what he said... he... Dimmock and I... he said the anniversary of your parents death was coming up and... it would be bad if... your two favorite slaves... wound up dead..." he choked on the words, trying not to cry. "I didn't think he was serious, I thought he was just... just threatening..." John breathed in Sherlock's scent, trying to calm down. Because of how stupid he'd been he'd almost had Greg and Mrs. Hudson killed as well. He should have told Sherlock the moment he'd returned.

Sherlock had expected Mycroft or even another slave to withhold information but never John. He felt betrayed... He had been stupid to trust this slave. Alone had protected him and he should have just stayed there. "You are to sleep with the other slaves from now on. No more privileges either. Leave my room this instance. I need to clean up." Maybe he as just being stupid and childish about everything but he was feeling so angry and...hurt? He wasn't used to such a stupid emotion. He sighed, got out of bed and went tot the bathroom, making sure to slam the door shut behind him.

John didn't even try to stop him from getting up. He hurt and knew he should have told Sherlock. It had been stupid not to. The slave got up gingerly, got his clothes, and limped out of the door, doing his best to not make any sounds. He walked down the stairs, gritting his teeth against pain and tears as he went. He made his way to the slaves quarters and entered. There were quite a few in there, cleaning up, and they all looked at him. "I... I'm supposed to sleep here." He said under his breath. Lucky for him Gregson was in. The older slave led him to the only open bed, but it was the furthest from the door. John didn't care, he simply put his clothes in the small dresser and went to dinner with the rest. He sat between Gregsom and Dimmock, feeling like he was hiding, and did his best not to focus on the looks he got. Greg and Mrs. Hudson weren't at dinner, yet he was. The other slaves knew it wasn't good, but they didn't comment on it. Most didn't, at least. Anderson snarked the entire time, and John did his best to ignore him.

Sherlock stayed in the tub until the water got too cold to handle. He got out slowly and dried off. He was hungry but didn't want to go down the stairs. He would have to see John then. When he was completely dried and dressed he opened the door to his room and yelled down the stairs. “Dimmock, bring me dinner. I will be eating up here tonight!” Should he just sell John now? What was the point in keeping the slave if he couldn't trust him? John was supposed to be his personal slave and body guard but now...? He let out a frustrated growl and flopped back onto the bed. It was cold and lonely without John next to him. Damn it. He just needed to stop thinking about some stupid slave.

At the sound of their master's voice, all the slaves jumped. John looked up, hoping to hear his name, but it was in vain. Dimmock gave him a sad smile and a gentle, careful pat on the back. The young slave went into the kitchen and gathered food for their master. As he passed he looked at John, who looked like death warmed over. He was leaning against Gregson just to stay up, and didn't look over at Dimmock when he passed. "Here sir." The slave said when he came into the room. "Where do you want it?"

Sherlock stared up at the ceiling, hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. He didn't even look over at Dimmock when the slave entered. “Just leave it on the table by the bed.” He waited for Dimmock to leave before he finally sat up and grabbed the tray. Despite how hungry he was, he picked at his food. The door opened without any sort of percursor which meant it was Mycroft. He rolled his eyes but didn't say anything to his brother, staring at the food as if it was far more interesting.

“You should get rid of them, you know. You can't be keeping slaves who don't tell you things like that.” Mycroft eyed his younger brother.

 Well, that settled. He was going to keep John just to spite Mycroft. “Does that mean I should disown you as my brother since you did the same damn thing?” Sherlock finally looked up from his food with a smirk as he watched Mycroft leave with a shake of his head. His brother was too tired to argue apparently. That was a first. He sighed, swallowed his pride and moved to the door his dinner barely eaten. “John, get up here now!”

Dimmock left the tray and exited the room quickly. John was still leaning on the other slave, doing his best to even keep his eyes opened it seemed. Dimmock sat down next to him again and shook John. The blond slave sat up, though he slumped forward. At the sound of his name he looked up.  
"I bet its cause you're going to get whipped and sold." Anderson told him smugly. John ignored him, placing his hands on the table to heave himself up. "Or maybe he'll use you for one last fuck and sell you." John didn't reply as he limped toward the stairs. He eyed them and then grabbed the railing, using it to haul himself up. When he got up the stairs he limped to the room, keeping his head down. He stopped in front of the still open door tiredly. "Yes master?" He asked, wishing he could just go try to get some sleep. He hadn't even noticed Mycroft passing him.

Sherlock had sat back down on the bed and tried to eat some more. He looked up when John came in and frowned at the state his slave was in. He hadn't realized John was so bad off until now. He was quiet for a moment, trying to think of what he wanted to say. “You betrayed my trust John. You will have to work hard to get it back and even then I'm not sure I will be able trust you fully again. I still want you as my personal slave and you may still study to be the doctor at the manor as well. Now come and lay next to your master. You look like shit and its cold here without you.” He offered the faintest of smirks.

John barely reacted to the news. He felt like his heart had broken, and he was tired as all get-out, and not even knowing he could be a doctor could cheer him. He tried to convince himself that he hadn't betrayed Sherlock's trust, not intentionally, but even if it hadn't been intentional it still had happened. He hesitated, though. His food had been left on the table since he'd been expecting... anything but this. "I... left my things on the table, Master." he said, closing his eyes a moment. "May I go put them away and then return?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows but nodded. “That is fine, as long as you think you can manage doing it.” John would likely be on bed rest until healed. He should also go see how Mrs. Hudson was faring. She hadn't looked too good last night either. Everything had happened quite quickly, the previous evening was a bit of blur for him. He sighed and kept eating, managing to eat without picking at his food now. The initial anger was gone now but he still felt...hurt. Damn it. This was stupid. He shouldn't care.

John turned and headed out the door, doing his best not to limp but then it would strain his back and he had to. He went down the stairs and took his place beside Dimmock and Gregson, finishing the food on his plate. Both of his friends looked at him curiously, and he only shook his head. "I bet you're getting sold tomorrow with the rest of the lot that came from Trevor's." Anderson sneered at them, and John ducked his head. It didn't take him long to finish eating, and when he did he stood up and went back upstairs. The slave paused on the doorway, and then walked into the room. He hesitated before getting under the covers, closing his eyes and laying straight. It made his back ache some, but he ignored it. It would be best if he could just try to sleep, despite the nightmares that would come.

Sherlock had most of his food eaten by the time John had returned. He hadn't expected his slave to take so long but didn't comment on it. He finished off what was left on his plate, placed the tray on the nightstand and then carefully snuggled in closer to John. Despite feeling betrayed, he felt more comfortable and at ease being next to his slave. It was never a good thing for a master to become so dependent on one slave but he supposed he had with John. He wasn't tired after sleeping so much but he didn't want to leave his slave's side at the moment. He would go check on Mrs. Hudson in the morning. Hopefully her condition would be improved from when he last saw her.

For the first time since their trip, John didn't move around Sherlock or put an arm around him. He remained laying straight, keeping his breathing even. His body wanted to relax and curve round his master, but his mind said no. He'd done enough out of turn. His master had said no more privileges. John counted curling up with him as one. Sleep didn't come to him at all, despite the evenness of his breathing. He could feel his master warm against him, and the coolness of the sheets, and the way his master breathed against his chest. Tears of upset and pain pricked at his eyes, but he didn't let his breathing change or the tears fall. Despite the growing ache in his back and arse, he didn't move. John just kept his eyes shut and tried to focus on what he'd have to do tomorrow. 

Sherlock frowned. Why wasn't John curling into him? “Laying with me, entails cuddling. Hard to keep warm if the body next to you just lays there.” He tried to sound amused but his voice fell a little flat. It felt strange to instruct John to snuggle back. He felt like they were back to square one almost. His slave didn't seem to want anything to do with him now. He wasn't sure why John would be the one upset though. His slave was the one who lied through omission. He sighed and pressed himself closer to John, desperately seeking comfort from his slave.

"Yes sir." John murmured, turning carefully so he didn't upset his aches too much. He put a limp arm over his master, feeling rather than looking at where his limbs were going. He didn't expect Sherlock to understand his stillness. The man was still a master, and the one who had ordered John to bed with the other slaves. John doubted Sherlock would understand the self-loathing he felt even if he told him. The slave almost hoped that his master was going to sell him, just so he could have a reason to be upset. He did finally fall asleep, but even then his body was tense, and it only got worse as the nightmares started once again.

Damn it. Sherlock wanted things the way there were before. It was impossible to feel comfortable with how stiff John felt. Would his slave ever want to lay with him again? It wasn't his fault! It was John's and it felt like he was the one trying to fix things and his slave didn't care about anything. He sighed and couldn't sleep at all. He eventually disentangled himself from John and got out of the bed. He was feeling horrid and restless. He went down to the den and drank himself into unconsciousness, passing out on the floor without a care.

John woke up stifling a scream, turning automatically into the pillows. He had dreamt that Jim was torturing John, and Victor was being fucked by his master. Sherlock wasn't paying John any attention, no matter how much he tried to apologize, and John woke up just as he felt the tip of the spike enter his heart and watched his master orgasm with another man. Tears ran down his face while he tried to get his breath back. It hurt and ached, ad when he turned to see his master not with him John began to hyperventilate a little. Unable to stop himself any longer, John turned his face into his knees and let himself sob. It hurt, and he could feel the wounds on his back opening up some, but all he di was stumble his way to the bathroom so he wouldn't make a mess of the sheets. The sun was beginning to rise, but he didn't notice. He was the worst slave to ever exist.

The only reason Sherlock woke up was because he was cruelly awoken by Mycroft as his brother made several loud noises in the room. He groaned, head pounding. He ignored the smug smirk on Mycroft's face as his brother left the den. Maybe he could just run away from this stupid life and never return. He would go alone. John didn't want him anymore, that much he was certain. Not after yesterday. Apparently he ruined things but it wasn't fair because for once he wasn't at fault. He sighed, got up and slumped onto the couch to pout.

Dimmock was concerned when John didn't come down as breakfast approached. It was still early, but he was nervous. He and Gregson went up the stairs quietly, noticing their master's den open. A cursory glance in showed that John was not inside. The pair made their way up to the master bedroom, walking through the open door. They couldn't hear anything, but John was not in the bed. The pair glanced at each other and then entered the bathroom. John was leaning against the side of the tub, pale and tear-streaked with little rivulets of blood going down his back.

"Alex, grab him. We... put him on the bed, I'm going to get some warm water and fresh bandages." He said, running out to do as he'd said. He passed the den without peeking in the first time, but on the way back up he stuck his head in. "I am sorry, sir, and I'm sorry to interrupt your... thinking, but it appears as though John has passed out. Gregson and I are going to care for him. Would you like to have him in your room or elsewhere?" He asked, eager to get back to the other slave. He wondered if Sherlock knew that he had lied just as much as John had by not going directly to him and telling him what had happened.

Sherlock groaned at hearing a voice speaking to him. He glared hatefully, his head still pounding. “Ah yes, my other Judas. Wonderful you two are getting along so well. I guess it makes sense in hindsight I don't care what you do. Just leave me alone.” He turned away so he could bury his face in the couch, it was clear he was still a bit drunk from last night. He even felt a bit sick but managed not to vomit. He closed his eyes but sleep didn't find him again.

"Yes Master." Dimmock replied, his face turning red. He hurried out the door, rushing to get away from the tall man. He went up the stairs to cater to John, who was still out cold upon the bed. Gregson had taken off his shirt and was trying to clean the blonde's back up, having taken off the other bandages. For a moment, John squirmed and frowned, whining unhappily.

"...love him..." he murmured, before turning his face into the pillows and not saying anything more. Gregson and Dimmock eyed each other in shock for a moment before ignoring the words.

Downstairs, Mrs. Hudson had gotten herself up and was in the process of scolding Anderson. He had been spouting off nonsense about John and she was going off on him about it. She had sent one slave up to the den with some food for Sherlock, and the slave was still giggling as she entered the den.  
"Mrs. Hudson sends you food and a note, sir." She murmured, straining to hear the older woman's voice again.

Sherlock growled at voice. “Out! Get the hell out! I'm not hungry!” Damn it. His head was pounding and he felt sick. There was no way he would be able to eat. What was the point anyway? John hated him now and he didn't even know why. He stumbled out of the den and out to the stables. He had decided to leave, even though he didn't have any supplies and really had no business riding a horse to begin with. He couldn't even mount the damn thing. He sighed and passed out again, falling into a stack of hay.

Mrs. Hudson saw her girl come down the stairs panicked, and grabbed her with nary a wince as she tried to pass.

"What happened dear?" She asked tenderly, and the girl only pointed as Sherlock headed out the door shakily. Mrs. Hudson pursed her lips and looked around. She pointed at two of the slaves, and had them come to her. "Go get my boy and stick him in his bed. Then come back down here." They nodded, and walked out as Gregson and Dimmock came down and walked over to Mrs. Hudson. Dimmock looked excited and dreadful at the same time.

"Mrs. H, you'll never guess what Johnny said." Dimmock told her in a low voice. The woman raised her eyebrows, silently telling him to continue. Dimmock looked around before telling her. "He loves Master. Alex and I heard him say it."

Mrs. Hudson smiled widely. "Excellent, it's about time he actually said it... now to get him to say it to my boy and have them make up... and then get the other two's heads out of their arses." She said with a grin, and the two men looked between each other worriedly. Mrs. Hudson gave them some food to take up as the two men with Sherlock in their arms came in and then up the stairs. They deposited him on the bed where John was beginning to wake up, looking at his dirty master with half-open eyes. His mind not awake and functioning, he wrapped an arm around the man and curled over him so that he rested on his bad shoulder across him. Dimmock had put a salve onto his back so that he shouldn't feel it too much.

"If only we could get a picture of that." Dimmock whispered to Gregson with a grin. The four slaves left and closed the door behind them.

Sherlock groaned but didn't wake up when he was moved. Even in his drunken stupor he rolled into John when he felt his slave put an arm around him. He smiled while he slumbered, relaxing for the first time since his fight with John. He didn't wake up again until  just before it was lunch. He muttered some incoherent words as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. Wait...how had he gotten back into his bed? Everything was a bit fuzzy after he had drunk himself into a partial coma. Was John here with him? Probably not. His slave hated him now and he tried to find solace in a the bottom of a bottle. He blinked open his eyes, expecting to find himself alone once more.

John was still curled around Sherlock. He had his waist on Sherlock's waist, his right arm on his master's chest, and his face pressed into Sherlock's neck. His breath was hot and damp, and his eyes shut, but he wasn't asleep or unconscious anymore. The slave could feel his master waking up, his limbs growing just a bit tense and not so loose as he came back into wakefulness. The slave leaned a bit more forward to press a kiss to his master's neck, opening his eyes. He didn't look up at his master yet, wanting to enjoy this peace they had for just a little while longer. He wasn't sure what Sherlock would say or do, but he hoped it wouldn't hurt.

Sherlock was so beyond confused at the moment, but relieved. Maybe John didn't hate him like thought. He smiled at the kiss and he nuzzled a little closer to his slave. Christ, he was starving though. He had only eaten two...three? times in the last few days. However, being curled up with John like this was quite wonderful and he wanted to savor the moment. He was a little worried his slave would change his mind and he would be left sleeping alone the rest of his life. He had so much work to do too. He had completely neglected his duties as a master yesterday. Maybe after lunch. He didn't hold onto too much hope that Mycroft had sold off Victor's slaves already. His brother had been a right prat since coming to the manor.

With no explosion on the horizon, it seemed, John pulled back a little. He tilted his head to look up at Sherlock, opening his eyes completely. "I... I really am sorry, sir. I didn't want to worry you with what Victor said. I... had meant to tell you but then you were upset and I didn't want you to be any worse... I didn't mean to lie, sir." He whispered, closing his eyes and nuzzling Sherlock's cheek. "And... I was going to, just... after. It happened, the anniversary, so you wouldn't be so angry..." John was quiet, ready for any anger. "I made a mistake sir, and I'll try not to do it again, but you know... I'm not like the other slaves. I'm not the type to tell you absolutely everything right after it happens. I'm... I want to protect you, from everything." Including himself.

Sherlock listened quietly and didn't say anything for some time after that. “I...suppose that makes sense,” he muttered after awhile. “I was...hurt more than anything. Something I am not accustomed to feeling. So I reacted with an emotion I am quite familiar with, anger and lashed out. I thought maybe you hated me because I had just cast you aside like nothing, but you aren't nothing to me. I...need you John.” He wanted to straddle his slave but that probably wasn’t the best of ideas since the other man was still hurt. He settled for kissing John on the lips firmly.

John was afraid that his master would kick him out after he had explained himself, and was glad when he spoke instead. John visibly deflated in relief when Sherlock answered him. "I could never hate you, sir. I'm fairly sure it's quite the opposite. I thought... I thought you hated me because I didn't tell you." The slave clutched his master as tightly as he could manage, which wasn't that much, and breathed a sigh of relief. "I need you too, sir. More than anybody before." Although he was sore, John pressed back against his master, and then saw Jim in his mind, kissing him, and pulled back a little with a quiet yelp.

Sherlock blinked in confusion when John suddenly pulled away with a noise of surprise. He was about to ask his slave he was all right, but that seemed like a pretty stupid question. It was disappointing that he would likely have to wait before he could do anything sexual with John again but trying to force things would only make his slave worse. “I don't about you, but I am hungry. I'll have Mrs. Hudson bring us lunch up to the room. You are to stay in bed until you are healed properly.” He called for his surrogate mother and requested two meals.

John squeezed his eyes shut and put his face in Sherlock's neck again. "I'm sorry sir. It's just... before you found me... Jim kissed me. At least, I think that's what it was supposed to be." John murmured, squeezing Sherlock's arm. Mrs. Hudson sent two other slaves up to bring the food to them with a note from her on it. John looked at the tray that was brought up to them a few a minutes later, after he had corrected himself so he was laying next to Sherlock, his stomach growling. When the other two walked out, John picked up the note and looked at his master. "Do you still want me in the slaves quarters or do you want me to move back in here? I took all my clothes down..."

Sherlock eyed the note but ignored it for now because he was so hungry. He dug in readily but reminded himself not to eat too fast or he would just make himself sick. With all the manners of a five year old, he spoke with his mouth full. “Don't be ridiculous, of course you are staying up here with me.” Bits of food got on him and the bed, but he hardly seemed to care or notice for that matter. He swallowed loudly. “What's the note say?” He asked and took another big bite of his food.

John ate a bit slower, having eaten the night before. He put a couple bites in his mouth, chewing it and swallowing while he looked at the note. "It says 'Don't make me kick both of your arses, I'll send John's things up later, if I hear of this happening again there will be consequences for both of you. You can have better tasting food later when you're less likely to vomit. Sherlock, no taking advantage of John until his back is healed. John, no taking advantage of Sherlock until your back is healed. Holler if you need me. Love, Hudders'." John read it off, flushing a little. He ate more, shaking his head. Even with her back she could be fearsome through just a note. It took a couple bites for him to notice the bottom. "PS- William Sherlock Scott Holmes, if I ever hear of you getting black out drunk again I am waking you up with a cacophony of pots and pans and opening all your blinds wide. Love you my little lock." He read off and frowned. "You got black out drunk?"

Sherlock laughed with food in his mouth, getting more pieces all over and around him. It died off when he heard the PS bit though. He gave scowl at John's question. “Yes, I wasn't in a very good place last night.” He gave a dismissive shrug and slowed down in his eating before he did make himself sick or even choke. “Everything is fine now though,” he assured his slave. And it was. He wasn't worried about  John wanting to be sold off or sleeping alone in the bed anymore.

John frowned at his master and shook his head, wiping off some crumbs from his side. "I wasn't in a good place last night, and I still went to dinner." He said, but let the subject drop. It wasn't a competition of who had it worse. "I'm glad, sir. I'd be upset if it wasn't." The slave waited until Sherlock's mouth was empty to lean forward and kiss him. He could feel Jim on the sidelines of his mind, wanting to get in on the action, but he pushed him away. He pulled away and scooted closer, putting more food in his mouth happily.

Sherlock merely shrugged again and continued to eat. He was bit surprised by the kiss but he returned with a ready smile. Maybe John was getting better already or trying to do so with mind over matter. He wasn't sure which but he would never turn down the chance to kiss his slave. It was always a delightful treat to do so. He enjoyed the way John tasted, the way his slave kissed back. He couldn't help but let his mind run rampant with thoughts but he came back to reality when he felt an erection growing. He couldn't help the small whimper but crossed his legs in hopes John hadn't noticed.

John didn't miss the sign of the erection his master was hiding, but he didn't bring it up. "Maybe later, sir." he said with a small smile. Although Jim had shoved a torture device up his arse, he hadn't actually raped him. There was no trauma on his arse, no fear there. With a teasing smile he placed his hand between his master's legs, just shy of his cock. He could still remember what Mrs. Hudson had wrote, but he didn't need to be on his back for everything... "You need to finish your food sir," he said as though he was entirely unaffected, "You didn't eat at all yesterday, or this morning."

Sherlock couldn't help but raise his hips fractionally when John touched him, a slow smirk creeping its way to his lips.  “I ate dinner last night. Sort of,” he mumbled in protest but finished the food on his plate. He placed the tray on the nightstand next to him. Maybe he could get his slave to just give him a hand job. It was the best he was going to get at this point. He could get himself off of course but he would much rather John do it in some fashion or other.

"Drinking yourself half to death? Or whatever you had before I came in? Because I'm quite certain neither of those things count." John told him, grinning at the hips raising. He could see the wheels turning in his master's mind, and stifled a giggle at the look on his master's face. It was like nothing had changed between them, after their fight. John grinned at the plotting look. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking I'm going to need a please and a rather good incentive." He told Sherlock, meaning a kiss. He needed to get Jim out of his mind, and he knew that hid master's mouth could do it. He was much better at kissing than Jim was.


	17. Chapter 17

“Dimmock brought me food last night,” Sherlock muttered a little petulantly. He hadn't eaten it all, but he had still eaten something. He cocked an eyebrow at the giggling. “Incentive hm? Like this?” He turned his head and leaned forward a bit, so he could kiss John on the lips and wasted no time trying to slip his tongue between the lips. He couldn't help but moan softly into the kiss, his erection growing with interest. “Please,” he murmured but didn't pull away yet. He wanted to make the kiss last longer than usual and hoped his slave wouldn't break it too soon.

"I see. Oh, yes." He leaned forward into the kiss. He didn't even bother trying to keep his mouth closed, his Master was filling all of his senses. Everything he had to give would be Sherlock's for that word and those lips. "As you wish." John carefully turned so that their lips remained almost in contact but he was straddling his Master. He allowed the momentary thought of what it would feel like to be between Sherlock's legs and thrusting into him, but quickly banished it for later. Instead he wiggled their trousers down without separating their lips and licked his own before slotting their cocks together but not moving. "What do you want next Sir?" He asked with a small smirk.

Sherlock enjoyed the kiss, eyes closing for a moment but opened again when he heard the question asked by his slave. He matched the smirk, though his grew bigger. “I say you better put your hand to good use and get me off before your Master gets impatient and cuts your tongue out for disobedience.” It was easy to fall back into their inside joke now that everything seemed all right between them now. He lifted his hips purposefully this time, encouraging John to start.

"Mmmm…I think he'd regret that when I couldn't suck him off very well, but I do rather like my tongue." John murmured, dropping his head to Sherlock's shoulder a minute to just breathe him in. The lift of his Master's hips had him giving a gentle gasp and he rocked back down against Sherlock. It felt good, though a bit dry, and John paused before continuing. To his relief there was still a vial of oil on the nightstand. He reached over and grabbed it, pouring some on his hand and then slicking down both of their cocks. He groaned at the feel of them pressed together, and began to thrust again. Much better.

Sherlock grinned and turned his head to nibble on John's ear a little, since he didn't have access to his slave’s lips at the moment. This wasn't exactly what he had in mind, but this would work as well. He moaned as he felt their cocks press together and he arched his hips back up, moaning again this time louder. He tilted his head down a little, so he could begin marking the part of the neck he could reach from his current position. He had marked pretty well a few days ago, but a lot of the bruises had faded already, and he was determined to mark John again so everyone knew that this was his slave.

John's breath caught at the nibble on his ear. Yes, he definitely liked that. When Sherlock moved away from it he sighed and grit his teeth at the pleasure in his hips despite the ache in the muscles of his back and arse. "You can do that and distract me from anything." He murmured, half wishing Sherlock would go back to his ear. It had felt damn wonderful, but the biting on his neck was alright as well. He had no problem with everybody knowing that he still belonged to Sherlock, that they were still in whatever type of relationship this was. John hoped that when this Jim thing was done was when Sherlock would sell the others...but not the time to think about that. He pressed down roughly, grinning into Sherlock's neck at how it felt. "You're bloody wonderful, Sir.”

Sherlock had noticed just how much John had liked the ear being nibbled on, just based on the response and it made him smirk. Once he was satisfied that his slave properly marked on the neck, he went back to the ear to gnaw on it lightly. “I know I am,” he murmured back feeling quite confident and cocky at the moment. Well, that was how he usually was, and it was nice to be back to his usual self. He ground into John, so he could cause some from friction and he moaned into his slave's ear.

John rolled his eyes at his Master, shuddering at the feeling of both the gnawing and the moan against the skin of his ear. "You know, Sir, a compliment in return wouldn't be horrible." He wondered if you were supposed to talk when you had sex or if it was just them right now. John grunted as one particular thrust ended with Sherlock's hard cock jabbing into his hip. He wished that there was a better way to do this but with his back, he couldn't be on the bed. He tightened his grip on them with a grin, groaning in appreciation at the feel of their cocks sliding together as well as the circle of his hand. 

Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle at what John said and for a moment he just kept nibbling on the fleshy part of the ear. “I suppose you aren't half bad either.” He pulled away long enough to give his slave a grin before he went back to the ear. He curiously ran his tongue inside of it, to see what kind of reaction that would get from John. He continued his light thrusts up into his slave, moaning every now and then. This was slow but nice. He had never thought he would like anything other than fast and hard.

John laughed and shook his head. That was about all he would get, he knew, but it was enough. Half bad to Sherlock was still miles ahead of everybody else. "That's extremely flattering Sir. Perhaps I ought to find someone else to…ohhh…p-practice with to get b-b-better." John couldn't help but slump a moment at the feeling of Sherlock's tongue tracing his ear. He forgot to thrust against the other for a moment, distracted by the feeling. That, he knew, could be dangerous if he ever chose to use it elsewhere. When John began to move again it was matching his Master's thrusts, countering his but not changing tempo.

That was an exciting reaction and so Sherlock continued to trace his tongue along and inside the ear now. “Too bad the only person you are allowed to practice with is me. I'm not going to share you with anyone, remember? Besides you wouldn't want to miss a chance for more of this, would you?” He smirked a little even though John couldn't see it. He continued to moan, loving the feeling between their cocks rubbing against each other.

John was nearly boneless except for his thrusts against Sherlock, leaning on his Master and hapless against the assault of his tongue and voice. It should have been nasty, how wet his ear was getting but it only served to turn John on more if that was possible. "Mmm…it's not…too bad, I think…you're pretty good, apart from that temper…threatening to…cut my tongue off and…whatnot…" John moaned, knowing he'd never voluntarily leave this, not for anything. The buildup of his climax was slow, and he could feel it. It wasn't the burst of energy like his past couple had been. He knew that what he was feeling was more on the…'lovemaking' side of things, though he doubted his Master did.

“I bet you say that to all your Masters,” Sherlock teased. He was really enjoying what was going on at the moment. This was all a bit new to him, but it did feel quite wonderful. He liked the way John reacted and writhed above him. He continued to give all his attention to the ear, moaning softly into it. He was close now. He could tell. It encouraged him to press up eagerly into his slave which ended up causing him to lose his rhythm and with restraint he calmed down and found it again after a few moments.

John faltered for just a second at that sentence and then shook his head without removing his ear from Sherlock. "Only the ones I love." He didn't even know completely what he'd said, only that it had come out of his mouth as natural as breathing. He chuckled at his Master's loss of rhythm, and rolled his eyes. "No need to rush Sir." It was only them, right now, right here, in this room. They were all that mattered. John could feel himself tightening up in preparation for his climax, and grunted while he rolled his hips harder against Sherlock's.

For a moment Sherlock thought he had ruined things by his careless words when John faltered but nothing changed between them, so he kept going. He hadn't take the first bit his salve said seriously really. He just thought John was teasing back. He smirked a little at the second part. “Can't help it, you are just that damn good.” Which was true. He had never been with a slave like this before. Or anyone at all for that matter. He didn't want it to end, which was unrealistic because he knew it would sooner or later. Although, he was fairly certain it would be sooner rather than later at this point.

John chuckled. "First, I'm not half bad, now I'm damn good, in the span of just a couple minutes." He leaned up some to look his Master in the eyes. He was struck quite dumb by the beauty of this man, and said nothing. He simply grinned, glad that they were back to how they had been, how they should be. He could feel his climax getting closer, but he didn't look away. He gave his Master a warning right before he came, groaning out his name as he did. Even though he was spent he kept his now flaccid cock in hand against Sherlock's despite the sensitivity.

“It would appear you are a very quick learner.” Sherlock smirked again and then watched with fascination as John came. It didn't take him much longer to come as well, letting out a long moan of satisfaction. He brought up a hand to run through his slave's hair lightly. “That was good,” he murmured in between a few panting breaths. Even though there hadn't anything fast or rough going on, he was left feeling breathless.

John leaned down carefully onto Sherlock, so he didn't bother his back at all, not paying attention to the sticky mess between them. H stuffed his nose into the crook of his Master's neck for a moment, smelling him and finding his body going even more relaxed. "It was, Sir. I didn't think sex could be like that..." John tilted his head up to smile at his Master. They'd need to bathe soon, but John didn't want to get up. He liked being here, relaxing with Sherlock. He murmured the three words into Sherlock's skin, hardly realizing he spoke them. They just seemed so obvious to him that he didn't realize they had escaped his lips.

Sherlock smiled and held onto John carefully, trying to avoid his slave's back as much and best as he could. His one hand still continued to run though the hair gently. He liked the way it felt between his fingers, even if it wasn't as soft as usual. He blinked a little at what he thought he heard John say but just convinced himself that he had misheard his slave. The entire notion was ridiculous of course. No slave would ever say that to a Master, let alone actually mean it.

John closed his eyes against the fingers in his hair, sighing in an almost purr-like sound. He didn't realize what he'd said had any impact on Sherlock, and finally got up with a sigh a few minutes later. "Let's go bathe, Sir." John waited for Sherlock to stand before walking into the bathroom. He got the tub ready, making sure the water wasn't too warm, and waited for Sherlock to get in before he did. His back ached a bit at the feel of the warm water, but it was rather nice. "You're going to have to ride my horse when he's better and tell me how he is. At this rate you'll be healed before I am." He grinned, teasing gently.

Sherlock grumbled but got out of the bed. He had been quite comfortable laying there with John and didn't want to move. He didn't care that they were both sticky messes. When the water was ready he got in. Since his slave couldn't really snuggle up against him, he shifted around a bit so that his back pressed into John's chest. “You'd let me ride your horse?” Well, he supposed as a Master he could do whatever he wanted. He just been under the impression that his slave didn't want anyone else to bother Raz.

John loved the way Sherlock sat against him. He once again was thinking of how it would be to have Sherlock at his mercy, and thrusting into him. He banished the thought again before he could risk getting hard again. "Mmm…yes. You'll be able to ride him before I will, and I want to see how he moves with somebody on his back. You're very good at riding too." He had to grin though. "Although I think I can ride you better when my back and arse are healed." He lowered his hand to begin wiping the dried come off his Master's stomach gently.

Sherlock snuggled into John a little more, trying to get as close as possible really. He tilted his head back to give his slave a grin. “Oh, I see. I'm just a guinea pig for you. How dare you want to use your Master so.” He kissed the only part he could reach, John's chin, before moving his head back down. He gave a small shrug. “Horses seem to like me. I spent a lot of time with them when I was younger. Father thought I was wasting time out there, but Mum thought I was...'cute'...I think is the word she used.” He smiled sadly at the memory and he cleared his throat before he pushed the thoughts from his mind. “You want to take your Master for a ride? Honestly, it is a wonder I let you keep your tongue.” He forced a smile, but it faltered as the past crashed in around him. He had been stupid to bring up his parents, now he couldn't stop thinking about them. Especially his mother.

John tightened his grip on Sherlock, nuzzling into the back of his head. "You're more than just a guinea pig, Sir. You're my favorite guinea pig. And you're sexy." John told him, grinning. He hummed as Sherlock spoke of his childhood. "I got out with them when I could, but I was generally attempting to avoid lessons and find girls to kiss at that age." John chuckled. "Perhaps I should have been looking for you instead." He didn't miss how his Master seemed to slump at the mention of his mother and John put both of his arms around Sherlock's waist. "I think…its best to…remember the good times and not the bad. That's what I try to do at least." He nuzzled the back of Sherlock's neck.

Even John trying to comfort him wasn't enough to shake Sherlock out of his head. He was trying like hell to just ignore all his stupid thoughts, but they were overwhelming him now. He let out a slow, shaky breath as he turned around, so he could bury his face into his slave's chest. John had already seen him pathetic and weak before, so what was one more time? He didn't cry though. He hadn't in a long time. He just stayed pressed against his slave, trying to find comfort there.

John didn't say anything. He pulled his legs up carefully and held his Master tightly. He raised one hand to Sherlock's curls and ran his fingers through them, pressing gentle kisses to his forehead and scalp as he sat before him. "You know, Sir, I won't judge you for anything. I'm not like the others. I'm not going to play you. You are my Master and…my friend, when you're in a good mood. I don't care if you cry or scream. I won't judge you. You're human like the rest of us." He kept his Master close and murmuring gently into his ear, closing his eyes.

Sherlock managed a faint smile at John's words, even though it couldn't be seen at the moment. He wouldn't let himself cry though. He wasn't some child anymore. He let out another slow breath. “I'm...I'm fine now.” That wasn't entirely true, but he pulled away from his slave anyway. “Just...finish washing me please.” He was capable of doing it himself of course, he just didn't have the motivation to do much of anything. Besides, he liked when John washed him, and he hoped it would be soothing to him like it had been all the other times.

John hummed in doubt, but he didn't argue. "Sir..." John grasped Sherlock's face gently. He pressed kisses to the man's face and eyelids. He said nothing else, but he did begin to wash his Master, touching the younger man's fit body was always a pleasure for John. His Master was trim but not overly buff as some others were. He washed him gently and carefully, showing each inch of skin that it was adored by somebody. John hummed as he did, lathering his hands and Master's body carefully. "Turn around Sir. I'll get your head and back." He said placed a gentle kiss on Sherlock's lips but pulling away before he could let it go too far.

Sherlock smiled at the kisses. They were nice to feel.  There were very few people that had ever taken the time to care for him like this and make him feel loved. Wait...maybe John had meant those words earlier? No. That would be stupid. No slave could ever love a Master. Masters were horrid people to slaves. He decided to just forget about it and enjoy the bath with John. He closed his eyes as he felt his slave wash him and he turned around when asked to do so, after returning the kiss.

John was slow and careful about washing Sherlock's hair. He knew his Master liked them to be tugged but that was during sex and snogging. This was just John doing his best to comfort Sherlock. He worked on his hair for a good five minutes, playing a bit with his Master's hair. The water remained fairly warm while he did and when he rinsed the black curls he made sure they were all untangled. Then he put his fingers to work in Sherlock's back. He never quit humming, but as he worked he would lean forward to press soft kisses to the back of his neck. His Master tasted good, and even more so when he was damp.

Despite his mood at the moment, John was doing an absolute wonderful job about calming him down. Sherlock closed his eyes when his slave worked on his hair. It felt really good. When John began kissing him he relaxed again, and all his worries and troubles seem to leave him because all that mattered right now was how amazing his slave felt against his skin. At this rate, he didn't want to ever get out of the bath tub.

John was finished before too long, but he left his hands on Sherlock's back. As much as he didn't want to, he still had to clean himself off. With a sigh, he released his Master and began to clean himself off. He reached around with his toes to unplug the tub and drain it, not wanting to wash in already dirty water. He was careful as he lifted his leg to reach the faucet, sliding down the tub some and giggling as he rubbed against his Master's back. Once the water as warm and the tub full, John cleaned off his front and Sherlock's back, keeping close to him the entire time.

Sherlock didn't move when he felt the water drain and was actually quite pleased the tub was refilled with more water. It meant he could stay with John even longer. He let out a small, content sigh and snuggled into his slave when John had finished washing them both. He didn't want to get out at all and he was determined to stay pressed against his slave for as long as the water didn't get too cold. His back was pressed against John's chest like it had been before when he first got into the tub.

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist and held him close. He didn't like it when his Master got unhappy, and he would do anything to comfort him and cheer him up. He breathed in Sherlock and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the back of his neck again before gently scraping it with his teeth. "I didn't get the chance to say…thank you for saving me, Sir. Most people would have given up even their favorite slaves without too much of a fight. But you…came for me…for us. Thank you." He tightened his hold on his Master's waist.

Sherlock remained limp and content in John's arms. He could stay like this for the rest of his life and die happy, he figured. “You are mine and I don't like sharing. You know that.” Although even his slave seemed to see past that. He did care about John...a lot more than he should. The other man wasn't just another slave to him. It was more than that, but he tried not to think about it too much. “Do that thing with your teeth some more, I like that.” He was hoping to just change the subject, but he really did like that feeling and wanted John to do it more.

"So demanding..." John chuckled, shaking his head. He did as Sherlock asked though, ducking his head and licking at his skin before letting his teeth scrape over it. He placed his hands on either side of Sherlock hips and alternated between nuzzling him and nipping his neck. He couldn't mark Sherlock, not like his Master marked him, but he could still pretend like he was. He was careful about the little welts left over from days prior, when Sherlock had taken him, and John pressed close to him, feeling them against his chest as he tipped his head for a better reach. He didn't want to live without this, not anymore. He didn't think he could.

“It is my right as a Master to be demanding.” Sherlock smirked even though his back was to John. He let out soft moans from the feeling on his back and neck. He wasn't sure why it felt so good, but it did. He wished they hadn't gotten off earlier or he would be very tempted to take his slave right here in the tub. There was the issue of John's back too. The only way he could see it working is if he let his slave shag him but that just wasn't done. Although, he would be lying to himself if he didn't think the idea sounded very wonderful and couldn't help but think about John taking him from behind.

"It is your right, just as it is mine to take a few liberties." John bit down a bit harder than he really needed to. When he pulled off there were light marks of his teeth against Sherlock's neck. John licked his lips and pressed a kiss to them, only slightly apologetic. It had felt good, to have skin presses between his teeth. John could feel the water getting cooler, but he didn't want to get out. Here in their tub nothing could get them. Here they were almost equal. He sighed and rested his head on Sherlock's neck, wishing it was different so they could be together and equal.

Sherlock snorted a little but when he felt the harder bite, he moaned. God, it shouldn't feel that good, but it did. “Do it again?” He knew he didn't need to ask but he couldn't help it. It was a way of giving John some sort of temporary control he supposed. He wanted to ask for more, but he was sure it would confuse his slave and possibly be refused. He would just take what he could get at the moment and not complain about it one little bit because he liked it. “Just take care to only mark where only you would be able to see,” he advised as an afterthought.

John chuckled and nodded against his back. It seemed as though his Master liked it a little rough. He didn't mind doing it for him, actually enjoyed it a bit. He liked having the ability to control where he could bite and how hard he could bite. He placed a few kisses around his back to tease Sherlock before finding what he considered a suitable spot and sinking his teeth into it. He was careful to make sure he didn't bite hard enough to draw blood, but he continued to litter bite marks all around his Master's back. If he hasn't have just orgasmed recently he would be getting aroused right now.

Sherlock enjoyed everything that John did to his back and wished they hadn't gotten off earlier. He let his slave do that to him for awhile, moaning quietly from time to time. “The water is becoming too chilled,” he murmured. He didn't want to get up, but he didn't want to stay in water that was cold either. He pulled away from John but turned to look at his slave curiously. “Would...you ever be interested in shagging me?” It was all he could think about while John bit and kissed his back.

John moaned unhappily when Sherlock pulled away from him. He had been enjoying holding Sherlock in his mouth and let him move away reluctantly. "I suppose it is." He murmured, sporting a light layer of gooseflesh. The slave met his Master's eyes and watched him closely while he listened to him speak, and then flushed and smiled. "I…I would, Sir. If you don't mind me saying so." John nodded. He wanted to shag his Master, but he wanted it to be more than that. Shagging was…hard and rough and without emotion. He wanted to show hid Master more than that.

Sherlock smirked a little. “I wouldn't have asked if I didn't mind.” He stroked John's cheek before finally getting out of the tub and grabbing a towel. “To be honest,” he murmured so quietly the words were barely above a whisper,” ….I was thinking about you shagging me while you were kissing my back in wonderful ways.” He turned his attention back to his slave. “Do you think you would be able to do it in the shape you are in now, if I was on my hands and knees?” It was the best position he could think of for it be the least amount of discomfort for John. He didn't seem to care that it would give his slave complete control over him. He had already admitting to liking that anyway.

John leaned in toward the touch and smiled. "Some people do that. Get hopes up to take them away. I wasn't certain if you would or not." He shrugged as he got out of the tub as well. "To be honest, I was thinking about shagging you while you were under me and moving against me earlier." John blushed a bit. He couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to be on top of his Master and thrusting into him. He'd never actually topped anybody before, and was curious about what it was like. Victor had always used words like hot and tight and bitch, but John didn't think that those were quite right. "Right now, Sir?" John blinked as he toweled himself off. "Perhaps we should wait for after lunch or dinner." Although it seemed that their plans to wait never did actually happen…still, John would need to get more oil from the kitchen and hope Mrs. Hudson didn't see him.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. “Do I seem like the kind of Master who would do that? Well...to you at least?” He smiled at John's admission, loving the pink coloring on his slave's cheeks that came when the other got flustered. “God, you look adorable when you blush.” He dried off completely and shrugged at the question. “It doesn't have to be right this instance. After lunch would be good, we should both be ready to go again by then.” He gave John a smirk. Now he couldn’t wait to feel his slave inside of him. Which was a bit strange since he had never let a slave shag him before.

"No Sir. Of course not." John paused, "You only threaten to cut out my tongue." He smiled at Sherlock, then and ducked his head with a small scowl. "Shut up, Sir. I'm…I'm not adorable, I'm a grown man!" He wrapped the towel around his waist. He walked out into the bedroom and saw his clothes had been brought back up, smiling. Mrs. Hudson, or one of the slaves at least, was a blessed ninja. "Lunch sounds really good Sir." John gave him a wide grin, ignoring the smirk as he dressed. "I wonder what it will be today. Mrs. Hudson always changes it." He'd have to put in a request one day, and see what she could convince the head cook to do. He had yet to meet the woman. Once he was dressed, John began to put his clothes away again. When he was halfway done he stopped and walked over to his master, wrapping his arms around him. "Thank you for taking me back Sir." He tied not to think about the sex in their future.

Sherlock smirked at the inside joke and it only got bigger at John's response to being told he was adorable. “Oh yes, very adorable. The most adorable looking slave I have.” Now he was just being a little shit, to see if he could make John get flustered and maybe even stammer. He got dressed as well, wearing one of his usual posh suits even though he would be taking it off after lunch, so his slave could shag him. He couldn't help but shiver in anticipation. He smiled at John and wrapped his arms around the other as well. “Of course. Thank you for accepting and not hating me.” He leaned forward to give his slave a kiss on the lips, letting it linger a bit before pulling away.

John's face went bright red at being called adorable. "Stop it!" He shook his head in denial. He wasn't goddamn adorable; if anything, he was handsome! He refused to be called adorable. He huffed and buried his face in Sherlock's chest, appreciating the kiss but not wanting him to see how red he got at the words. If anybody else called him adorable John was likely to chin them, but he didn't mind too much with it being Sherlock. Sherlock was his, and he was Sherlock's. That meant it was, in a way, alright. "I could never hate you…unless you keep calling me adorable." John gave a small, teasing glare.

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh at John's reaction. “Oh, but you are. I wouldn't lie to you. Not about something as important about how adorable you are.” He grinned, eyes dancing with mischief. The way his slave reacted was enough to keep goading the other. He couldn't help it. Although maybe he should stop, or his slave might change his mind about the shagging. He could demand it of course but he had made a promise to John to never make him do anything sexual.

John looked up at his Master, eyes narrowed and face a bright red. Even so, he looked exasperated but amused. "No, you wouldn't, would you?" He asked, pretending to try and get out of his arms. It hurt the wounds on his back, though, so he stopped and huffed. "But that doesn't mean you have to continue!" He squirmed only to get closer to Sherlock. "Still, quit calling me adorable…" He wasn't quite flustered enough to stammer, but his face was a bright, burning red and he couldn't do anything to stop it. Really, he didn't want to, despite the adjective used. He liked being complimented.

Sherlock was enjoying this quiet a bit. So, at ease with his slave and how easily they teased each other. It was nice. Different and new. He'd never had someone like John before. “Why would I stop calling you adorable? And miss out on this little show of embarrassment that makes you look even more adorable than you already are? Never! Perish the thought.” He smiled and just held onto his slave, careful of the wounds on the back.

John giggled and shook his head. "Stop it." There was no real bite to it, though, and he only got more embarrassed the longer Sherlock spoke. "S-stop it!" He finally got to stammering when he felt a hand creeping down towards his backside. "What if somebody walks in?" He demanded, though he really couldn't care less. He still had clothes to put away, but he hated to separate himself from Sherlock. He knew that it was highly unlikely anybody would say anything anyway. Not unless it was Mycroft, but as he was still with Greg. John doubted he would come in.

And now John was giggling. Perfect. “So, what if they walk in? All they will see is an adorable slave giggling adorably and the Master of the house being very amused by it all.” It was unlikely anyone would walk in. Well, maybe his brother but sod it. What could Mycroft do but scowl and disapprove? That would be nothing new though. He leaned forward to give John a gentle kiss on the lips, a big smile on his face. He had never thought something so silly and ridiculous would be entertaining.

John returned the kiss with a smile, loving how relaxed they were with each other. He had been afraid Sherlock would sell him the day before and now it was like they'd never had any type of fight. "I happen to think you're quite cute as well Sir." John told him when the separated, keeping his forehead on Sherlock's even though he had to stand up on his toes a little. "Especially when your hair is all wet and you have a pout on your face..." He moved his arms to put them around Sherlock's neck and stay close to him.

Being modest was not one of his traits. “Of course, I know I am cute.” Sherlock grinned but couldn't help but arch a brow. “You like the way I pout?” He puckered his bottom lip out for show. “Like this? Am I cute enough for you now?” The grin got bigger and he pressed their foreheads together when his slave put his arms around his neck. It was nice to be so relaxed with John, especially after the horrid fight but now it was like it had never happened and he was perfectly fine with that.

"More than, Sir." John answered, grinning and kissing the protruding lip. He couldn't stop himself from licking it gently while it was still between his own lips, and he couldn't help but giggle when he pulled back. "I like the way you pout, and the way you curl up against me when you sleep, and the way you kiss me in the morning to wake me up, and how you're demanding about your bath habits..." John trailed off. He more than liked them, he loved them, but he wasn't certain his Master had to know that, really. He'd never heard of slaves falling for Masters, not without some type of brainwashing going on, and there really had been none. Sherlock had simply let him heal and let him get revenge against his father. John was content to simply stand and be with Sherlock.

Sherlock smirked broadly. “So many things you like about me. Or are you just saying those things to try and flatter your Master and get on his good side?” He knew of course John wouldn't do that. Not with him anyway. He smiled and kissed his slave on the lips and reluctantly pulled away. “We should go get lunch. Then we can come back to the room and have bit of fun.” The smile turned into a grin. He was looking forward to feeling John inside of him and he didn't want to wait any longer than needed.

"Do I need to get on your good side Sir?" John rubbed against him for a moment. He was completely honest with every word, but he knew that Sherlock knew it as well. John wouldn't lie to his beloved Master like that. He pulled away from the kiss with a grin, walking back over to the closet. "I need to finish putting my clothes away sir." Jon told him, moving a bit shakily with excitement. He knew what type of fun Sherlock spoke of and was eager to put it into action.

Sherlock smirked a bit. “I think you are already there, but you might have to prove it to me some more after lunch.” He waited for John to finish putting the clothes away before he went downstairs with his slave. Tomorrow he would have to do some real work. Deal with Victor's slaves and his own. He would sell quite a few off and make a nice profit for the Holmes business. Not that they really needed it, but it would be good for their reputation too. He sat down at the table and waited to be served.

John couldn't serve Sherlock yet. The food tray would put too much strain on his back, or at least that was Mrs. Hudson's excuse. She had another slave take his Master's food out and John took his place between his two friends. Dimmock and Gregson grinned at him conspiratorially, worrying John a bit. He frowned at them, but didn't get the chance to ask any questions before they were eating. John shrugged and let himself relax in the comforting circle they had, wishing he could be next to Sherlock and feel even better.

Sherlock ate quietly, like usual. Well, he tried to anyway. His stupid brother sat down next to him. He eyed Mycroft. “Come to tell me what a disappointment I am to the family name?” He muttered bitterly. His brother didn't answer though, thankfully. He went back to eating without speaking but he could tell Mycroft was watching him in quiet contemplation. He felt uncomfortable with his brother just staring at him and scrutinizing every move and gesture. That was what Mycroft wanted though, he figured. He wouldn't make a scene in front of the slaves. That meant after lunch. Which meant canceling plans with John. Damn Mycroft.

John wished he could have sat next to Sherlock as soon as he saw Mycroft come down. He couldn't help but notice that Greg had not joined them, and John didn't think his injuries had been that bad... Was Mycroft babying him then? The thought made him chuckle, and he whispered the thought to Gregson and Dimmock who laughed as well. They got a few glances but for the most part they were ignored. Still, John knew that Mycroft interacting with Sherlock never foretold good things. He probably wouldn't be able to follow through with his plans for his Master then. How annoying. Apart from that, lunch was good and quiet as usual.

Sherlock tried to escape upstairs after lunch, but Mycroft stopped him. Damn. So close. He disappeared into the den with his brother. “What do you want now dear brother?” He used the last two words with a bit of sarcastic tone as it was Mycroft called him from time to time.

“You are keeping him, aren't you?” Mycroft didn't bother to hold the disdain in his voice.

Sherlock scowled. “What's it to you if I am? It is my decision, not yours.”

“It is the wrong one.” Mycroft let out an exasperated sigh.

“Is that what you dragged me in here for? To tell me what slaves I should and should not keep?” 

“He could be used against you against you again Sherlock. That makes it dangerous to keep.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “You have a lot of room to talk. You've had the same damn slave since we were kids. Are we done here?” When his brother didn't say anything, he left the den and went to his room, hoping John would be there.

John saw his Master leaving the table and was going to follow him, but Mycroft was up and after him almost directly after. He sighed and took his plates to the kitchen instead. Mrs. Hudson was in there, speaking with the chef, and John smiled at them both. Mrs. Hudson wrapped her arms around him carefully to give him a hug and kissed his cheek. John made a face, and thanked her for the food.

"Uh, Mrs. Hudson, where do you keep the oil?" He asked, looking at her. She let a large grin slide across her face.

"Oh, what do you and my little lock need it for?" Mrs. Hudson asked him, and John turned red.

"Door is squeaky, along with a... couple other things." He told her defensively.

Mrs. Hudson chuckled in amusement. "I'm sure. Her." She rummaged around in the cupboard and pulled out another vial. "Have to keep it on hand for the other guys who have…squeaky thing to fix." She told him by way of explanation, and John didn't argue. He simply nodded and escaped upstairs with the vial. The door to the den was closed, and John knew Sherlock was still speaking with his brother. He was upstairs with his shirt off and laying face down on the bed when he returned. The slave turned his head to look over at his master and smiled. "Have a good chat?"

Sherlock was pleased that his slave was there, but he rolled his eyes at the question. He decided not to mention that Mycroft wanted him to sell John. “He just wanted to talk some business. Nothing worth going into detail about. Besides, I believe a certain slave promised me a good time after lunch.” He moved to the bed and laid down next to John, a grin on his face. He leaned forward to give his slave a kiss on the lips, giving a small moan.

"Mmm…business with your brother can never mean good things, Sir." John didn't press him for any other details though. As soon as Sherlock was next to him John turned and put an arm over his side, keeping him close for the kiss. He stayed there for a couple minutes, just kissing his Master, and yawned. "I'm sorry, Sir, I may need a little nap before I can…shag you into the mattress..." He frowned a little. He didn't want to, but he was dead tired.

Sherlock was enjoying the kissing, but he frowned a little at what John said. Right. Of course. Perfect. “Yes, all right. Nap then.” He wasn't tired, and he also wanted to try and get his sleep schedule back on track. He didn't know what to do with himself. He thought about going to the den to do some work, but he might run into Mycroft again. Instead, he reached over and grabbed the book John had been reading to him at night and picked up where his slave had left off.

"I'm sorry. Just give me…half an hour…" He curled up against Sherlock, placing his head against the other man's hip. He really hated to sleep, but he needed it. He still wasn't sleeping well, despite having moved back in with his Master, and he didn't want to pass out in the middle. His internal alarm clock appeared to be working because without Sherlock prompting him he woke up half an hour later. He didn't remember what he had been dreaming but he knew it wasn't pleasant. John nuzzled Sherlock's hip, frowning, and then looked up at his Master with wide, slightly sleepy eyes and a wide, happy smile. "Good afternoon Sir." He murmured.

Sherlock was going to let John sleep as long as his slave needed except the other man woke up automatically anyway. He smiled and put the book away. “Good afternoon.” He smiled and leaned forward for some more kissing with his slave. It was what they had been doing before John had taken a nap and he was quite eager to continue it. He enjoyed the way his slave tasted, and he wished John was wearing a shirt so he could pull the slave on top of them while they kissed.

John sighed into Sherlock's mouth and put his hand in the curly hair. It was his. Every part of Sherlock was his. Gods above, it was lovely. He was lovely. For a while as they kissed the thoughts circulated through his head. Sherlock kissing him and tasting delicious. Sherlock's hair beneath and between his fingers, like silk. Sherlock's skin against his own, soft and smooth compared to his own work-roughened epidermis. He shifted as he knew his Master wanted so that he was half laying on top of him, never moving their lips apart. What a way to wake up.

Sherlock smiled into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of the hand in his hair. John always seemed just what to do to please him. When his slave came to rest partially on top of him, he carefully moved a hand to John's waist, so he could help hold the other man in place a bit better. He finally had to pull away from the kiss, panting a little. He smiled up at his slave, his other hand coming to caress the cheek. “So how do you want me? This is one of those times I will let you have control.” The thought thrilled him really. To just let someone other than himself be in charge for once. It was even better because it was John and really, he still trusted his slave more than anyone else.

John stayed where he was on his Master, thinking. He wanted his Master under him, certainly, but how? He hummed as he thought, leaning down to press his lips to Sherlock's sternum. He nibbled on the bone there, and then looked up. "Just like this Sir. I want to be able to see your face while I'm inside you." If he ever got the chance again, he would likely have his Master on his hands and knees. But this time…he wanted to be able to watch Sherlock. "Gloves, Sir?" He asked, remembering what Sherlock had said about sanitary and safe when he'd pleasured John nights prior. He didn't know where they were, though.

Sherlock nodded. “All right.” He dropped his hand to point to the drawer in his dresser. “Top one, far left. It has other toys in there, if you are curious about things later.” He gave John a grin, eyebrows raising a little. He had all sorts of things, mostly for his experiments but sometimes himself. “Don't worry, they are clean too. I let them soak in a cleaning agent for twenty-four hours and then dry for another half a day before they are used again.” He'd had an outbreak of some bacteria from the use of a dirty toy. A lesson he'd learned the hard way, but it wasn't a mistake he would make again.

John got up unhappily. It was hard not to touch his Master, but he had to stand and move in order to get to the gloves. He grabbed a pair of gloves and looked inside the drawer. His face turned red at just imagining some of the things being used on him. His dick hardened at the combined thoughts of using those on himself and knowing he had Sherlock waiting for him. He walked back over to his Master with a bit of a strange gait, crawling back up onto bed. He really needed to take his trousers off but right now he was having an inability to focus on anything but his Master. John slid the gloves on and grabbed the vial of oil, looking up at his Master with a smile. "Ready Sir?"

Sherlock still needed to disrobe and did so when John moved off the bed. He returned to laying on his back though by the time his slave had come back, watching in amusement at how John was walking. He gave a nod to his slave when asked about being ready. He was very ready, his own cock pretty hard at the moment. He couldn't help but think how wonderful it would be to have John inside of him. He had never been eager for it before. Not even with Victor. Damn it. Quit thinking of that idiot. John was different. Everything was so different with his slave than it had been with anyone else.

John could see the conflict on Sherlock's face, and he knelt down by his arse. The slave poured some oil on his fingers, and then pressed them by the muscle. "Don't worry Sir. I'll take good care of you." John leaned down so that his head was by his Master's cock. He breathed out onto it and felt his Master's entrance twitch by his finger. Once Sherlock was loose, John slid his mouth over his cock the same time he slid his first finger in. He had to make this good, he wanted to. If he did perhaps he'd be allowed to do it again. As John pumped his finger in and out of his Master he matched the rhythm with his sucking.

“I know you will.” Sherlock gave John a smile. He couldn't help the moan that left his lips when he felt the finger go and his slave's mouth on his cock. He had not expected the second part, but it was a welcomed surprise. He forced his hips to stay still, and he curled his hands into the sheets since he wouldn't be able to dig his nails into John's back like he wanted to. He closed his eyes, enjoying every sensation that his slave was giving him at the moment.

John went slow, savoring every moment he was getting. He wished he could have had Sherlock's nails and fingers on him, but he couldn't, not while he was injured. The slave made sure he didn't push his Master too far, not wanting him to come before John was inside of him. After a few minutes of slow sucking, John took his mouth off his Master. "Sorry Sir but I can't having you coming too soon." He spoke into the soft skin on his hip. When Sherlock's body was ready for him, John removed his fingers and placed himself above his Master. He stopped breathing for a minute at the gorgeous sight below him. "You are the most amazing man I've ever known." He waited for Sherlock to let him know he was ready for John to push in.

Sherlock moaned from time to time, and couldn't help the whimper that left his lips when John's mouth wasn't on his cock anymore. “Tease,” he muttered as he opened up his eyes to stare up at his slave, a smirk on his face. The fingers in the sheets relaxed a little even though he knew they would be in a fist again when John finally entered inside. He gave his slave a small nod of his head. He was more than ready really, and he hoped John being inside of him was everything he had been thinking about before.

John stretched himself out over Sherlock as he lined himself up and pressed in. He went slow, not wanting to cause Sherlock any pain. He pressed his lips to his Master's while he slid in, shaking a little at how it felt. Victor had been right in that it was tight and hot, but it was much more than that. It was another way of Sherlock holding him, keeping John with him. It was Sherlock trusting that John wouldn't hurt him and John trusting Sherlock to trust in him. He gasped and pressed his lips back onto Sherlock's carefully in revelation.

“God yes,” Sherlock murmured when he felt John finally push inside. He decided to put his hands on his slaves hips, but made sure to be careful where he put his fingers and hands while he held on. His eyes closed once more as he returned the kiss, moaning into it quietly. He had to remind himself John was in control and made sure to keep his hips moving in time with the thrusts, and not try and force a faster pace. Although, right now he didn't want that anyway. What John was doing, felt amazing and he didn’t want it to end too soon.

John kept his movements slow, cherishing his time with his Master. He didn't want to rush this, he didn't want to ruin this either. John pulled his head away from Sherlock's to smile at him. "Look at you," he murmured, "stretched out and willing for me… You're so beautiful. God, Sir, you…you're so wonderful. You're brilliant and gorgeous and soft and you feel so good, Sir. If this is what it's like when you're in me…you're so wonderful." John knew his Master's ego didn't need to be stroked anymore, but he couldn't help but praise him.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk as he listened to John speak, eyes cracking open to look up at his slave. “Yes, well it is hard to maintain this level perfection, but I suppose in comparison to me, you aren't half bad either.” The smirk got bigger, mischief in his eyes as he continued to look up at John. He had come to find he enjoyed teasing his slave, even if he was at John's mercy at the moment. He really did trust his slave to not take things too far.

John grinned and shook his head fondly. "A bit rude, but thank you Sir." John bowed his head slightly and nipped at his Master's collar bone. He began to thrust slowly, nipping at parts of his Master's chest as he did. Remembering how Sherlock had moaned earlier, John began to bite down. First, he bit on Sherlock's collar bone, holding it between his teeth. Then he made his way around and down his Master's chest, only licking at the peaked nipples he felt. "I could probably have you in a puddle before I make you come."

Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle. “I have been told I have a tendency to be a bit rude from time to time.” When he felt the nipping, he moaned, and his eyes closed again. He hoped John would remember to keep any marks being visible to anyone but his slave. He didn't bother to remind John though because right now the man above him was doing wonderful things to his body. “Probably,” he agreed. He thought about taking on that challenge, but he knew it was lost before it even started.

John hummed in response, dragging his hips back and forth teasingly. It was some hell on him not to go straight to pounding but he rather liked this, not rushing. It felt like it meant something, but it always meant something when he was with Sherlock. Eventually, John left his Master's nipples alone; they were as sensitive as his own during sex it seemed. He hummed, as he let his lips make their way up Sherlock's neck so that he was nuzzling below Sherlock's jaw. He kissed and licked there but was careful not to bite it, knowing he wasn't supposed to mark him. Unfortunately. "Definitely."

Sherlock whimpered at the teasing and the touching. He wanted more but he didn't ask for it. He never thought he would like things so slow like this, but John somehow seemed to make it feel glorious. Even though he was supposed to be the Master, he couldn't help but find himself begging. “God, yes. Just like that. Please, more of that. Of everything.” He moaned and wanted to turn his head so he could kiss his slave on the lips, but he wasn't in control right. Damn. Giving up control was a little tougher than he thought it would be.

John grinned at the whimpering. He could feel the tension in Sherlock's shoulders and neck, trying to not order him around or change what they were doing. Frowning a bit in concentration he remembered what his Master had had him do when it had been John on the bottom and grabbed his legs. He lifted them to his hips, searching for the prostate that he knew would really give his Master pleasure. "Anything you want, love." John murmured, not paying attention to his words again as he lifted his head to Sherlock's ear as best as he could and nibbling on the skin just underneath it, smiling and moaning as he felt his Master's muscles move around him. He had to get his Master melting soon, he wasn't certain how much longer he could last like this.

Sherlock was in a haze of arousal that he wasn't paying much attention to what John said. He turned his head, so his slave could have better access to his ear. He whimpered and moaned, body becoming a writhing mess now. He couldn't help it. “Oh God,” he breathed out when felt John get the perfect angle and his prostate. “G-good,” he stuttered out not caring about his image of being strong and proud at all at the moment. All that mattered was everything his slave was doing to him.

John grinned when he heard Sherlock's words. He did his best to keep his angle there, picking up his speed now. He wondered if he made a mark over Sherlock's ear if it would be seen. Shaking his head, he lowered his mouth to where he could feel Sherlock's beating heart under his mouth. He bit down, thrusting faster and a bit harder now. He willed his Master to come, wanting to feel how his muscles would clench and spasm around him as he did. "Come on Sir. Come for me."

Sherlock was surprised but pleased by the pace getting harder faster and the biting. Shit. The biting was fantastic. He made all kinds of sounds of pleasure and after awhile he couldn't take it anymore and he came with a loud moan. Most of the mess got on his stomach and chest, but some had sprayed up onto his slave as well. “So good,” he murmured again as he opened his eyes so could look at John, a content smile on his lips. “God, you feel wonderful inside of me.” They were definitely doing this again sometime.

John moaned as he felt Sherlock clench around him, his own hips jerking a few more times before he came as well. He worried for just a moment about coming in or out of his Master, but let the worry go and remained inside. He coated the inner walls of Sherlock with his spunk, groaning happily. "Oh god Sherloooock…" The feeling in his arms and legs buckle when he came. He tried his best to not flop onto Sherlock remaining inside of him for now. "I can understand why you like to be on top." John ignored the warm mess between them and placing his lips on Sherlock's before dropping his head onto the pillow. "I never thought I'd enjoy this."

Sherlock watched with the same fascination as last time as he watched John climax, a smile on his lips. They were going to need another bath now. For some reason that was funny to him and he couldn't help the giggle that came out of his mouth. God. When was the last time he had giggled? He blamed his slave for rubbing off on him. It made him smile at John affectionately though. “Since you seemed to like it as well, I will let you be in control from time to time.”

John loved the giggle he heard Sherlock give. He turned his head and nuzzled his Master, smiling happily. "I'm going to taste you all over one day, then. I'll take hours and let my mouth get to know every part of you." He carefully wrapped his arms around his Master. His shoulder ached a bit, but he didn't focus on it, it was insignificant compared to holding Sherlock. When he shifted he realized he was still seated inside of Sherlock and looked at his Master, raising his eyebrows in question if he wanted John to pull out or stay in longer.

“Yes, I did let you add that to the list...didn't I?” Sherlock smiled and snuggled into John even more. He was quite comfortable and didn't want to move yet. Though they would need to bathe before the dinner bell rang. Sod it. He was the Master of the house, they could be late if they wanted to. “You are fine,” he reassured his slave when he saw the eyebrows go up. Even though John wasn't hard anymore and he was sticky inside and out, he still like the feeling of his slave inside of him.

"You did…just wait for that night Sir. I'll make you see stars." John wanted to make sure Sherlock knew that just as much as John belonged to him, he belonged to John in the same way. As far as he could tell it, nobody would ever touch his Master again. Nobody would ever fuck him that wasn't John, or get fucked by him. He gave a possessive, quiet growl and nibbled a bit harshly on Sherlock's ear before all but deflating. It wasn't like anybody would get to then here and now. John was glad to stay inside of Sherlock, his body was warm and welcoming. He hummed, and nuzzled the ear he had just nipped. "Thank you, Sir."

“That sounds like quite the promise. You had better be able to live up to it now. You wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you?” Sherlock gave John a smirk. He was a little surprised by how aggressive his slave became for a moment, but it only made him smirk bigger. He gave a small sigh of contentment and snuggled into John as well. He reached a hand up to run through his slave's hair. “You know we have to get up eventually.”

He had been worried Sherlock would get upset with him for the aggression he had showed, but he seemed to like it. John found that he wanted to get in a fight for Sherlock and show him just how strong he could be. He'd never disappoint Sherlock, at least he never wanted to. John gave a small moan at the feeling of the hand in his hair. "Is it bad of me to say I don't want to?" John questioned quietly, not looking at Sherlock.

Sherlock laughed. “I don't want to either but if we don't go for dinner, Mrs. Hudson will come up here and give us hell.” They could be lazy for a little while longer. The bath didn’t have to be long like their other ones. Just enough to clean up and time to get dressed afterward. “For now, I am content to just stay curled against your side.” Which was true. If he could, he would just spend the rest of the day snuggled up with his slave.

John took the opportunity to kiss Sherlock's Adam's apple while he laughed, and chuckled alongside him. "She would. She did tell us no sex because of my back." It was a dull ache in the back of his mind. He was certain that it would hurt worse when he focused on it, he had just strained his muscles and healing puncture wounds, but the chance to shag Sherlock was more important. "It's become one of my favorite things to do Sir. Curl up with you. You make me feel…safe. Like never before." John changed his position while Sherlock did, his cock finally sliding out. The sheets were soiled again, and if they weren't careful they'd be sleeping on a mattress with just a blanket. John grinned at the thought.

Sherlock was a little worried about John's back himself, but his slave had agreed to the shagging. “I like being next to you like this too.” After just snuggling with John for awhile he finally got up with a slow groan, and carefully disentangled himself from his slave. “Come on. Guess we should get cleaned up. We are going to need new sheets too...again.” He gave John a grin at that before he disappeared into the bathroom and began to fill the tub with some warm water.

John let a happy rumble come from his throat. He didn't say anything, but he did hold his Master tightly until he got up. Even then, John held onto him until he couldn't. The slave sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He stood carefully and pulled the sheets off of the bed, then piled them by the door. He'd get them down to washing before dinner, hopefully. Once that was done he made his way into the bathroom slowly. His arse hurt only a little from the kidnapping, but his back was definitely making itself known.

Sherlock was in the tub by the time John came into the room. He was a bit disappointed his slave hadn't joined him sooner but didn't comment on it. Instead, he eyed John critically. “Git, told you should have taken me from behind.” He shook his head a little but gave his slave a small smile. “Come and join me. It is lonely in here all on my lonesome.” It should probably worry him how reliant on John he was getting but he couldn't help it. His slave had grown on him more than any other person he had ever met had.

"Maybe so Sir, but I wanted to watch you. You have fascinating and lovely expressions. I hate to miss them." John quickly joined his Master in the tub. He sat in front of Sherlock this time, pulling the man's arms around him. "I'm sorry Sir. Is this better?" He turned his head to smile at the man be loved.

Sherlock smiled and gave a small nod of his head. He snuggled into John carefully the moment his slave was in the bath with him. “Yes, much better. Thank you.” He kissed the back of John's head, thumbs rubbing along his slave's stomach and chest lightly. Once more, he wished he could just stay with John like this. Maybe now that Victor was gone, he could finally get out of the slaving business. Yet, there was still Moriarty to deal with. He sighed quietly at his thoughts and pulled John closer to him marginally and wishing he could put his head on his slave's back for some comfort.

John put his own hands on Sherlock's legs, finding it awkward to try and hold Sherlock's arms as well. He put his head forward, revealing the back of his neck comfortably. There were the beginnings of a burn brand, but it had been ruined; John had moved when that Master had started on the brand. "Anything for you Sir." John knew how dangerous it was to say that, but he meant it. At this point in their relationship it felt odd to not say it. Because he couldn't stop himself from making some type of noise, John began to hum. Maybe one day he'd let it stay while he went to dinner. Nobody would know but Sherlock and he, and it could be their own…dirty little secret.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the burn scar he spotted on John's neck and he kissed it softly. There was a part of him that wanted to find all of his slave's former Masters and kill them all. He knew he couldn't though. What had been done to John was perfectly legal. He supposed he really wasn't any better, he had done some pretty bad things to slaves as well, so it wasn't like he was any better than them really. Just the idea that someone had hurt John upset him, which was stupid. He had flogged his slave on the first day. He wasn't doing anything to make himself feel better with all these stupid thoughts. He had been washing himself automatically and when he was done he got out of the tub, drying of hastily and went to pout on the bed even though it didn't have sheets on it anymore.


End file.
